


When There Was Me and You

by buffymysavior



Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: Bisexual E.J. Caswell, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Christmas, Dances, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sleepovers, Thanksgiving, Time Skips, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 37,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffymysavior/pseuds/buffymysavior
Summary: Do you remember in kindergarten, how you’d meet a kid and know nothing about them, then ten seconds later you’d be playing like you were best friends, because you didn’t have to be anyone but yourself?For Carlos, meeting EJ for the first time felt like that. And maybe the feeling was more than reciprocated.
Relationships: Carlos Rodriguez & E.J. Caswell & Ashlyn Caswell, E.J. Caswell/Carlos Rodriguez, Seb Matthew-Smith/Carlos Rodriguez
Comments: 30
Kudos: 358





	1. part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> credit to @tkstrand on tumblr (previously known as @lukemullen) for making the fic cover tagged at the beginning.
> 
> also, thanks to everyone who has supported my writing in the past and encouraged me to write this story. without it, i may have never even tried to write this.
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading, and enjoy chapter 1/3!! if you want to possibly get a heads-up about future updates/previews of the next 2 chapters, my twitter is @elosersunite :-)

Recess somehow manages to be Carlos’s most anticipated and most dreaded part of the school day. On the bright side, he’s able to move about freely without being confined to a cramped desk in the back of the classroom, where the class clowns and resident bullies of third grade spend their time tormenting him with wadded up pieces of paper and thinly veiled insults. On the darker, much less optimistic side, recess gives those same bullies a lot more opportunity for harm with half the chance of getting caught, thus Carlos’s impossible dilemma. 

Of course, Carlos has always been much more interested in dancing in the grass than playing tag on the blacktop or swinging from the monkey bars. This is definitely one of the main reasons that other kids like to pick on him, the other offenders being his interest in musical theater and his inability to mismatch his shoes with his shirts. As much as he tries to keep his chin up high through it all, the ugly truth still manages to worm its way into his chest, scratching and clawing until his heart bleeds out through the pinholes. 

Today, unfortunately, is one of the more dreaded days; some boys in the back of the room spent the entire morning shooting insults at Carlos when the teacher wasn’t paying attention, or trying to trip him whenever he had to get up and sharpen his pencil. He has a feeling that today isn’t exactly a lucky one for him given all of the obstacles he’s _already_ had to face, as well as the fact that the day’s only halfway through. Despite the higher than normal possibility of being laughed at or shoved, Carlos doesn’t let that stop him from finding his usual spot in the grass where the trees are shady but the sunlight still peeks through to give the illusion of a spotlight shining down on him. One day, he decides, he’ll be encored on a Broadway stage, applause so loud that it echoes in his ears hours after his performance. 

He twirls as he daydreams, and he’s in mid-plie when the group of boys from his class are crowding around him with cruel laughter spilling from their lips and snarls contorting their faces. Maybe one day he’ll be on Broadway, but this, unfortunately, is not that day.

He breaks formation and lifts up his chin, hoping he intimidates them into leaving. Not that it’s ever worked before, but he supposes it’s always worth the try. “Can I help you?” he asks, annoyance seeping into his words. He shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose with painstaking diligence, not breaking eye contact once. 

“Yeah,” the boy in the middle starts, face already grinning like he’s come up with the perfect joke. “How about you stop acting so girly?” The boys start cackling at the very unclever and unoriginal joke, at least in Carlos’s opinion, but that doesn’t stop the needling in his chest from making itself well-known and apparent.

He keeps his chin up high, though, silently hoping against hope that he doesn’t burst into tears and give them even more ammunition to wield against him. “Sorry,” he says. “No can do. Anything else I can help you with?” He continues dancing, maybe even more flamboyantly than he had been, and before he knows what’s happening, two hands are landing on his shoulders and shoving him backwards in the grass. 

His glasses fall askew on his face and his hands sting from having to catch his fall, but neither of those things hurt worse than the open wounds in his chest, put there by their mocking and constant humiliation. They all laugh harshly at the sight, faces twisted into wicked grins. “Remember this next time you want to act all gay,” one of them crows. Finally, the three of them walk away and take their vicious laughter with them, leaving Carlos with his palms in the grass and fog in his glasses from the tears starting to burn in his eyes. 

He wraps his arms around his knees and bends his head down so no one will see the tears inevitably rolling down his cheeks. Of course, Carlos can’t ever get a moment of privacy (he’s ignoring the fact that it’s a public playground at recess time) because he feels someone approach the edge of the grass and pause in front of him. He expects it to be yet another person just itching to humiliate him, coming to laugh at his own personal circus of emotions. 

Instead, he hears the question, “Hey, dude, are you okay?” The boy’s voice is kind and gentle, and maybe it’s just because Carlos is in a pretty low place right now, but it’s charming, too. 

He glances up, whipping off his tear-smudged glasses as he wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I’m just great,” he sniffles. “It’s not every day I get shoved to the ground by a bunch of bullies.” He uses his shirt to wipe the lenses clean before pushing them back up his nose. Now he’s able to make out more than an outline of the boy in front of him; he can now clearly see he has tan skin, green eyes, perfectly swept brown hair, and a smiling mouthful of braces. 

Carlos is pretty sure he gapes at him for a full minute, thoughts perfectly blank, before the boy frowns. “Oh, sorry,” he says, as if he’s realizing something. He reaches out his hand, and for several moments, Carlos is confused on whether he wants him to shake it or if he’s offering to help him up. Eventually, he grabs it, and surely enough, the boy yanks him to his feet. “There. That’s gotta be better than lying in the grass,” he smiles, and though it’s warm and inviting and the complete opposite of any expression those bullies gave him, he’s still weary. When he doesn’t answer, he must take it as a sign to continue because he asks, “So, why did they shove you? Did you do something to them?”

The only thing _that_ earns is a raised eyebrow. “Are you asking me if it was my fault?” Already, he can feel his walls rising again, closing in on him so hard that he almost feels claustrophobic. “Because it wasn’t. Unless _dancing_ is a crime.”

His eyebrows pull together, and he shakes his head in disdain. “No, no, that’s not what I...here, let’s start over.” Again, he sticks out his hand, and this time, Carlos is sure that he’s going for a handshake. He’s never really shaken hands with anyone except maybe a few of his dad’s work friends, and the gesture makes him feel oddly grown-up. “I’m EJ,” the boy says. “EJ Caswell. And you are…?”

It takes a moment for him to realize that he wants to know his name (which is another rare occurrence considering his classmates prefer to come up with their own fun nicknames for Carlos.) “Oh. Carlos Rodriguez.” They shake for a few seconds before EJ pulls away first (he supposes handshakes aren’t supposed to last longer than that.) It doesn’t take long for awkward silence to ensue between them, and Carlos is still left reeling from the fact that he’d come over to talk to him at all.

“So,” he starts, and Carlos guesses that means that the conversation still isn’t over. “Those guys pushed you down for dancing?”

He glances down at the ground, his eyes finding the tips of his new sneakers. The edges are curling with green. “They said it was too girly,” he mumbles. He doesn’t say the _other_ thing they said, because just remembering the disgusted tone they’d taken makes Carlos feel bouts of shame and a sickening twist in his stomach. 

Carlos isn’t sure how he expects him to respond, or if he expects him to answer him at all, but he _definitely_ doesn’t anticipate him saying, “So, what?” He glances up, finding his green eyes already looking back at him. “You like dancing, right?”

The question actually makes him laugh a little. “You could say that,” he says. “Or you _could_ say that it’s what I was born to do.”

EJ smiles, eyes crinkling along with the dimpled smile he gives him. “Right. So if it’s that important to you, why stop because of some jerks?”

Without even meaning to, Carlos smiles back, the sincerity of his words shining like a beacon in his dismal little world. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Another uncomfortable silence casts down over them, and yet again, EJ is the one to break the slippery slope of awkwardness they’re both currently treading on. “So...you like _Glee_?” 

Carlos glances down at the black T-shirt tucked underneath the lapels of his jacket, the imprint of the _Glee_ logo front and center. Out of everything else that EJ had already looked past, Carlos wonders if this will be the one that befalls him. “Oh...yeah,” he says. “What about it?”

He prepares for a digging remark or _something_ ; he’s so used to people making him the joke or the punchline that it’s completely new territory the moment someone doesn’t, and this is _definitely_ one of those moments. But once again, EJ Caswell defies all expectations, because instead of tossing an insult his way, he grins excitedly. “It’s the _best_ , isn’t it? What did you think of the season premiere?”

Immediately, Carlos’s face lights up. “I _still_ can’t believe Rachel and Finn broke up. _Or_ that she’s already moving onto Brody.” 

“I know, right? And it sucks that Rachel got into NYADA and Kurt didn’t,” EJ adds. 

“ _Exactly_!” Carlos exclaims, probably a little too loudly. His cheeks warm. “Sorry. I’ve _kind of_ never had someone to talk about the show with.” Or anyone to talk to about anything at all, but he doesn’t tell EJ that. He’d already witnessed one of the lowest moments of his life; he doesn’t need him to think he’s even more of a loser than he probably already does. 

“Well, now you do,” EJ smiles. “Do you...maybe want to sit with me and my cousin Ashlyn at lunch tomorrow? She’s a _huge_ fan, too, plus she’s cool, I promise.” 

Something unfamiliar rises amongst the pain and hurt in Carlos’s chest—it takes him a moment to realize it’s a swell of hope, so blinding that it nearly overwhelms him. It’s spilling down his chest and Carlos isn’t sure he can contain it all. “Sure!” he says, and it’s a miracle that he doesn’t actually start jumping up and down. “We could even call ourselves the Glee Club!”

EJ laughs and flashes that smile at him, still charming despite the braces. “Our own Glee Club. I like it.” The bell for recess rings, everyone running to line up on the sidewalk. “So, see you tomorrow?”

He nods fervently, and EJ smiles at him one last time before running to join his classmates in line. 

All in all, Carlos decides that today’s recess might have been one of his better days. 

* * *

It’s the next day when Carlos is standing in the lunch line, nervously bouncing on the edge of his heels. Most of the lunch tables are overcrowded, carrot sticks and french fries flying across the room as people joke around with their friends. Carlos has never liked the cafeteria; it’s always too loud and too hectic, but he wonders if maybe EJ will be able to make things better for him like he had at recess yesterday. It’s wishful thinking, but for once, Carlos doesn’t stop himself, instead choosing to scan the cafeteria for the third time in search of his new friend.

He’s starting to wonder if it had all been a joke when he spots him sitting on the edge of the cafeteria beside a girl with strawberry-blonde curls and a smattering of freckles. The girl—Ashlyn, he reminds himself—is talking animatedly, throwing her hands around in all sorts of gestures while EJ seems to be laughing at something she’s said. He starts walking towards them, then stops suddenly, not sure if he should wait for them to invite him to their table or go ahead and sit down. Luckily for Carlos, EJ glances up right in that moment and sees him, smiling and waving him over. 

Carlos glances around to make sure he’s actually the one he’s waving over, thankfully finding no one else in his general vicinity. _Here goes nothing_ , Carlos thinks, slowly making his way over to the (mostly) empty table and setting his tray down next to EJ. “Hi…,” he says, voice lilting awkwardly.

If either of them notice, they don’t say anything, instead smiling expectantly at him. “Hey, what took you so long?” EJ jokes.

He doesn’t tell him the truth, which is that his entire class cut in front of him for lunch even though he’d been one of the first people in line. Carlos had found out the hard way that his classmates have no respect for anyone else but themselves. “I wasn’t sure where to look for you,” he says.

“Oh,” EJ says. “Well, we always sit in the same spot, for future reference.” He says it like this is going to become a regular occurrence for them, and the thought lights him up with a beacon of possibility. 

It’s quiet for a minute, nobody really sure what to say (especially Carlos of all people) before Ashlyn coughs, looking pointedly at EJ. “Anyway, Carlos, meet my cousin, Ashlyn. Ashlyn, this is Carlos, my...friend,” EJ smiles.

The beacon in his chest somehow manages to shine even brighter, like a mega-watt lightbulb burning up inside him. “So, what grade are you in?” Carlos asks Ashlyn. He absent-mindedly wrings his hands in his lap, the whole thing more social interaction than he’s had in a while.

“Third grade,” she smiles. “What about you?”

He smiles back nervously. “I’m in third, too.”

“Awesome!” she gushes. “EJ’s in fifth grade already. Lucky.” She needles him in the side, as if it’s due to his own mischievousness that he’s two years ahead of them.

“Not _that_ lucky,” he says. “You guys get two recesses a day, and I always have a _ton_ of homework.”

Carlos’s anxious smile falters slightly. “Having two recesses a day isn’t _that_ fun, trust me.”

EJ and Ashlyn share a glance, faces practically drowned in pity, and Carlos wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Luckily, the subject changes when Ashlyn says, “So...EJ told me you like _Glee_?”

“Oh,” he says, the question catching him off guard even though it really shouldn’t have. “Yeah! I didn’t know anyone else my age watched it.”

“It’s our favorite show pretty much _ever_. EJ even comes over to my house every Friday so we can watch it together after school,” she gushes.

He doesn’t know why, but he actually finds it touching that they’re so close. Carlos doesn’t have any close relatives, plus being an only child doesn’t exactly give him the opportunity to bond with anyone his own age. “That’s so cool!” he smiles. “I wish I had someone to watch it with. Well, besides my mom, I guess, but she doesn’t really like it. She thinks Rachel’s too much of a diva.”

“Of course she is. She’s Rachel,” Ashlyn says, like it’s obvious (mostly because it is.) “And you should come watch it with me and EJ! You know, only if you want to,” she adds shyly.

“Seriously, dude, you should come. It’s a _lot_ of fun,” EJ says. 

Both of them look so eager that Carlos thinks he must’ve misheard them. But a few moments later, they’re still staring at him with expectant looks on their faces, and he realizes that they really _do_ want him to come over. “Yeah! I’d love to,” he beams.

Ashlyn claps her hands together excitedly. “Great! I’ll ask my mom if she can pick you up after school.”

“Aunt Debby’s great. You’ll love her,” EJ adds. “Knowing her, she might even let _you_ call her Aunt Debby.”

Ashlyn and EJ giggle as if they’re sharing some kind of inside joke, but Carlos unintentionally zones out halfway through. The warm feeling in his chest is almost overwhelming him at this point; he can’t believe how—as dumb and cheesy as it probably sounds—at _home_ he feels sitting there with EJ and Ashlyn. He doesn’t know if fate exists, but if it does, a part of him wonders if meeting them is meant-to-be. Or if he’s so starved for friendship that his delusion is making things up for him. Either way, as they sit there and debate which _Glee_ characters are actually the best (Rachel and Kurt, obviously, at least in Carlos’s opinion), happiness comes easier to Carlos than it has in a long time. 

* * *

They’re sitting at the same lunch table again, but it’s a new year; Carlos and Ashlyn have not only moved up to the fourth grade, but also into the same class, something he and Ashlyn couldn’t be happier about. Of course, EJ’s living the life as a sixth grader, making him “the king of the school” as he so fondly likes to put it, which never fails to make Ashlyn roll her eyes and Carlos laugh. Nevertheless, the thought of him moving onto junior high next year manages to sneak its way into his head under the surface of it all. A part of Carlos can’t help but fear that things will be completely different between them next year; instead of it being the three of them together at lunch and recess, it’s just going to be him and Ashlyn. And as much as he loves Ashlyn...it just won’t be the same without all three of them together. 

Which, Carlos guesses, is one of many reasons why he decides to give him a card when Valentine’s Day rolls around. He doesn’t want to delve into the _many_ part of it, so he doesn’t, instead writing it off as a token of their friendship rather than what he suspects lies underneath. Nervously, Carlos breaks the heart-shaped cookie on his tray into little pieces, not sure when he should give EJ the card leaving a metaphorical weight in his jacket pocket; Carlos and Ashlyn had already exchanged their cards at the class party they’d had that morning, leaving EJ as his last Valentine recipient. 

EJ and Ashlyn are currently arguing about which _High School Musical_ movie is actually their favorite (because it might be a new year, but some things just never change.) “Come on, Ash, _High School Musical 2_ is the best and you know it. I mean, seriously, are you trying to argue with ‘Bet on It?’” EJ points out.

“The original movie is a _classic_. What do you think, Carlos?” Ashlyn asks.

He glances up guiltily. “I’ve _actually_ never seen past the first fifteen minutes of both sequels.”

Their eyes widen in shock and disgust. “Dude, _seriously_? How have you—”

“— _never_ seen the full versions of the sequels?” Ashlyn finishes.

Carlos shrugs; he has a feeling that telling the truth was _probably_ the wrong thing to say. “I didn’t want them to ruin the original, okay?”

Ashlyn holds her hand up as if to stop him. “Okay, let’s pause this so I can get another chocolate milk. And when I get back, _we_ are going to plan a sleepover so you can get over yourself and watch the sequels with us.”

He smiles; even when they’re harassing him about something as trivial as not watching a couple movies, he still can’t believe how lucky he is to have her and EJ as friends. “If you say so,” he says. As he watches her walk away, he realizes that now would be the perfect time to give EJ his card, and he freezes. “I don’t get why she likes chocolate milk so much when the strawberry is _way_ better,” Carlos says in an attempt to break the ice. 

“Finally, something we can agree on,” EJ smiles, holding up his own carton of strawberry.

 _Come on, Carlos. Now’s your chance,_ he thinks. He takes a deep breath before turning to EJ. “So, how many valentines did you get?” he asks, snapping off another piece of his cookie.

“Kind of a lot, actually,” EJ says. “Weird, right?”

It’s actually the least weird thing Carlos has ever heard, considering...well, everything about EJ Caswell. Then again, maybe it is surprising to EJ; after all, the only friends he hangs out with on a regular basis are his cousin and Carlos, who isn’t exactly considered the standard of fourth grade popularity, or anywhere near it, in fact. “I guess,” Carlos says. He reaches in his pocket with the hand that isn’t currently fidgeting, touching the edge of the paper with his fingers as if to make sure it’s still there. Slowly, practically shaking, he says, “Well, _hopefully_ you won’t mind one more.” 

He holds the card out to EJ, a thing made of pink and red construction paper cut into careful heart shapes. A smile pulls at his face as he takes it, flipping it over to the other side, and Carlos’s fist clenches, the piece of cookie that had been there before now a mess of crumbs, icing, and sprinkles. He grabs his napkin and frantically wipes it off as EJ starts reading the message out loud. “‘To: EJ. Happy Valentine’s Day! Thanks for being one of my best friends! Love, Carlos’”

Immediately, Carlos regrets making it at all; what if he hates it, or thinks it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever seen, or thinks it’s too— _no_. He won’t let himself go there, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts. Because EJ is still EJ, no matter if Carlos gives him the lamest Valentine’s Day card on Earth. 

Thankfully, his fears are put to rest when EJ emits a little, “Aww,” and not at all in the way that someone making fun of him would say. “You made this for me?” he asks. He sounds pleased and actually _awed_ , and it’s more than Carlos could have ever asked for.

He smiles, still feeling the blush of embarrassment on his face, but for a much different reason than before. “Well, they _are_ fun to make. And they feel more personal that way.”

“Well,” EJ says, setting his card down and reaching into his pocket, “in that case, I hope you don’t care that this _isn’t_ homemade.”

He holds out a small, folded card enclosed in a heart-shaped sticker, the outside addressed ‘To: Carlos’ in perfect handwriting, and Carlos is feeling pretty awed himself, his heart bursting with happiness and shock. He pulls the card apart, revealing Troy and Gabriella on the inside with the message, ‘We’re all in this together, Valentine,’ at the top. “I know it’s not much, but…”

Carlos shakes his head, swallowing hard. He doesn’t know how to tell EJ that it’s everything to him, especially when the only cards he got were from Ashlyn and his teacher, plus a few kids that he’s pretty sure were forced to by their parents. He doesn’t know how to say that his friendship is more than enough for him, or that this past year of knowing him has been the best of his short life. He doesn’t know how to say any of these things, so he doesn’t. Instead, he musters up a grin and says, “I love it, EJ. Thank you.”

They smile at each other for a moment before the chair next to EJ screeches loudly, Ashlyn plopping into it with a new carton of chocolate milk in hand. Both of them scramble to shove the cards out of sight, EJ pushing his under his lunch tray while Carlos tucks his in his pocket. Ashlyn gives them a weird look, but doesn’t mention it, instead saying, “Hey, guys. What’d I miss?” 

“Nothing, Ash,” EJ smiles. “Just talking about how much better strawberry milk is than chocolate.”

She gasps. “First _High School Musical_ , now this? Shame on you!”

“Ugh, fine. Can we at least agree that the school’s pizza is _disgusting_?” EJ asks. 

Carlos scoffs. “It’s like they used cardboard instead of crust!”

“And old glue instead of cheese,” Ashlyn adds. 

They continue to make comparisons to how terrible the school lunch is, their previous arguments already forgotten by the time the bell rings for recess. As they get in line to throw away their trash, Carlos smiles at his Valentine’s Day card from EJ, knowing it’ll probably be the first of many times he’ll do so the rest of the day.

* * *

It’s the morning of Thanksgiving when Carlos is mindlessly watching the Macy’s Day Parade on TV. His mom had already shooed him out of the kitchen, currently bustling around to prepare the three courses of protein their family always has on the holiday. Of course, she’s stressing out about having too much food to make and not enough time to prepare it in, so when she starts swearing in Spanish and tells Carlos to pick up the ringing telephone, he’s not all that fazed. 

“Hello?” he asks uncertainly. He’s never liked answering the phone, especially when it ends up being a distant relative or family friend that asks Carlos if he remembers them despite not having seen them since birth. 

“Hey, it’s EJ!” the voice says, and Carlos is immediately relieved, a smile worming its way onto his face.

“Oh, hey!” he says, trying to keep his delight under control. That’s always been a problem of his when it comes to EJ, especially now that they’re not in the same school building. So far, his attempts to do so haven’t been working all that well, but he doesn’t care, too excited by his call that it’s practically irrelevant. “What’s going on?”

“Who is it, _mijo_?” his mom asks from the kitchen.

He pulls the phone away and covers the receiver. “It’s just EJ!”

“Make sure to tell him happy Thanksgiving!” she says.

He tucks the phone back up to his ear. “Sorry about that.”

EJ laughs, the sound making the line crackle. “‘Just EJ,’ huh?”

Again, Carlos smiles, unable to contain it at this point. “You know what I mean,” he says. “So, why’d you call?”

He lets out an overdramatic sigh before saying, “So you know how Ashlyn and her parents are out-of-town visiting her grandma for Thanksgiving?”

Carlos nods even though he knows EJ can’t see him. “Yeah...”

“Well, after dinner, my parents are wanting to go to this cultural event with some of their friends, and normally they would just drop me off to hang out with Ashlyn, but since she’s gone…”

It doesn’t take long for Carlos to fill in the blanks, and when he does, his grin widens with realization. “EJ, are you asking if we can hang out?”

“Well, when you put it like that...yes. That’s exactly what I’m asking,” he laughs. “But I get it if you’re busy with family stuff…”

He runs to the kitchen door and claps a hand over the phone. “Mom, is it okay if EJ comes over after dinner?”

She dusts her hands on her apron and frowns. “Won’t he be with his own family today?” 

“They’re having dinner together, but then they have plans with their friends, so he was wondering—”

She holds her hand up to stop him. “Tell him he can come as early as he wants,” she says. 

Carlos beams, throwing his arms around her. “Thank you, _Mami_!”

“Now get out of my kitchen,” she says, but she’s smiling as she returns to her cooking. 

He hurries back to the living room with the phone, sticking it up to his ear. “ _Please_ tell me you didn’t catch that last part.”

EJ’s laughing when he actually responds, so clearly Carlos hadn’t been lucky enough for him to have missed it. “Did you just call her _Mommy_?” 

“ _Mami_. It’s Spanish! And do you want to hang out or not?” Carlos asks.

“ _Yeah_. Yes, that sounds great,” EJ says, and Carlos can practically hear his smile through the phone. “What time?”

“She said as early as you want,” Carlos says. “Who knows? You might even get lucky enough to meet all my relatives.”

“ _Ha_ , _ha_ ,” EJ says. “Does six work?”

Carlos smiles. “It’s perfect.” He hears a bang from the kitchen, his mom yelling another string of swear words. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you then?”

“Yup. See you at six,” he says. There’s a pause, one that he wonders if it means he’s supposed to hang up, before EJ asks, “And Carlos?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t let himself think about why, but his heart speeds up involuntarily, anticipation sending his mind into overdrive.

There’s another pause, and he can’t help but wonder if the call dropped, until he hears EJ’s breathing on the other end. “Just...thanks for this. It really means a lot.”

His forehead crinkles; why _wouldn’t_ he let EJ come over? Carlos is pretty sure he’d do anything for EJ if he wanted him to, no questions asked, so letting him come over on Thanksgiving doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. “Yeah, of course.”

This time, EJ actually does hang up, and Carlos lets the phone drop onto the couch as he thinks about getting to spend Thanksgiving with EJ. It’s a nice thought, he decides, and if he spends the rest of the afternoon daydreaming about it, well, worse things have happened.

* * *

Thanksgiving dinner at Carlos’s house passes by without much fanfare; his mom swears that this is the last year she’s hosting dinner at their house, but he already knows that she’ll wind up doing it next year despite what she says in the moment. His relatives muss his hair and pinch his cheeks, tutting at how skinny he is and telling him he should _really_ eat more. Carlos smiles and answers their questions when they ask about school or his hobbies, but outside of that, he’s pretty quiet and doesn’t say much. 

Carlos actually likes Thanksgiving; his relatives are nice, for the most part, and even though he sits with the adults because all of his cousins took up the seats at the kids’ table, dinner goes pretty well. The food is really good and he appreciates the extra attention he gets, but for some reason, he just can’t get into it this year, kind of wishing it’s over already for whatever reason.

Well, not for _whatever_ reason; he guesses the cause for it is the fact that EJ won’t get here until dinner is over and everyone goes home. Objectively, he knows it’s stupid to want dinner to be over already when the holiday only comes around once a year and his family doesn’t get together often, but that doesn’t change the fact that his eyes keep skipping past the clock every few seconds, hoping that an hour has somehow passed since the last time he’s checked. It’s not really _that_ much different from all the other times that they’ve hung out, except for the fact that it’s Thanksgiving and EJ’s actually never been _inside_ his house before (which, in retrospect, all of their hang-outs _are_ at Ashlyn’s, so it’s not even his fault.) So, he guesses in actuality, it’s _completely_ different than their usual hang-outs. No pressure or anything.

By the time the last of his relatives leave and the leftovers are wrapped up, _and_ his parents are asleep upstairs from all the protein they’ve consumed, it’s almost six o’clock. Not to say that Carlos totally panics, but he does a triple sweep of the house to make sure it’s in order, paying extra attention to his room in case there’s anything worth shoving underneath his bed or into his closet. (Least to say, he’s panicking by the very definition of the word itself.)

When the doorbell rings at 6:03 (Carlos has familiarized himself enough with the clock in the past couple hours that finding it on the wall is practically second nature), his heart picks up speed. He rushes to the door, then feels stupid for running and slows himself down, attempting to look as nonchalant as his eleven-year-old self can muster before opening the door. “Hey, EJ!” he says, trying to smile like he’d forgotten he was coming until the doorbell rang, and not at all like he’d spent the entire day waiting for him to show up. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Kind of okay, actually. How was yours?” EJ asks, and Carlos moves out of the way to let him step inside. He can see him taking everything in, and he tries not to feel self-conscious about him doing so.

“Good,” he agrees. They awkwardly stand in the doorway, Carlos not really sure what to do (and it’s not like he can tell EJ that he’s the first friend he’s ever had over.) “Here, I’ll, uh, show you my room.” He leads him down the hall and opens the door to his bedroom. Immediately, he regrets suggesting it at all; his walls are covered with posters of _Glee_ , _High School Musical_ , and Broadway shows, his other fan merchandise displayed on any available surface. He wonders what it must look like to EJ, who’s slowly stepping inside and glancing around as if to analyze every possible detail there is. “Sorry, I know it’s kind of…” He makes gestures with his hands as if _that_ will somehow convey what he means.

EJ turns around, a gleam in his eyes. “What, awesome?” He touches one of the posters on the wall, fingertips gliding across the glossy material.

“Oh,” he says, and he’s not sure why he’s shocked. EJ Caswell has always been full of surprises, subverting his expectations when he least expects it. “Yeah. I guess you could call it that.”

His gaze seems to fixate on something sitting on his bookshelf, and Carlos follows his line of sight. He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary—his small stack of books are neatly organized, his collection of musicals resting orderly alongside them, and on the shelf below— _oh_ , he realizes, much too little, too late. “What’s this?” EJ asks, getting down on his knees to investigate.

Scrambling to the floor, Carlos kneels down beside him. “What’s what? I don’t see anything unusual.” EJ gives him an amused look before pulling it off the shelf. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing—” Helplessly, he watches as EJ unfolds the red cardboard, his eyes going wider than Carlos had ever seen them. “Let me explain—”

“You made a _High School Musical board game_?” he asks.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing really to explain,” Carlos says. EJ looks at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, and he takes a deep breath. “When I was younger, I always wanted to go into the movie, but since I couldn’t, I made this board game. I call it _High School Musical_ : The Choosical!”

EJ is grinning so wide that Carlos thinks it might blind him. “ _Please_ tell me that we get to play it now.” When Carlos meets his eyes, there’s not an ounce of teasing, just EJ giving him a pleading look that only puppy dogs could possess, and here he is yet again, completely taking Carlos by surprise.

“Sure, why not?” he laughs. 

EJ pumps his fist up in excitement. “ _Yes_! Now I’m kind of glad that Ashlyn’s family went out of town.”

Carlos ignores the way the words make him feel warm all over. “So, West High Knights or East High Wildcats?” he asks, holding up the game pieces.

“Wildcats, obviously,” he scoffs, then pauses. “Unless you want to be a Wildcat?” 

He had, actually, but now, he’ll gladly settle for being a West High Knight if it means seeing EJ as happy as he is. “No. I’ll be a Knight,” he says, and EJ smiles. “So, the categories are…”

The game goes off without a hitch, which Carlos finds surprising considering the fact that he’s never actually played it before. They take turns participating in the lip sync and trivia challenges, and at one point, EJ gets stumped on recounting a dance for the Bop ‘Til You Drop dance challenge, foot flying dangerously close to the game. “Are you trying to ‘accidentally’ flip the board?” Carlos asks, eyebrows raised and fingers lifted in air quotes.

“Maybe…,” he says.

He rolls his eyes, laughing; he hasn’t played a lot of games with EJ, but the fact that he’s the type to flip the board is not surprising in the slightest. “Do it and see what happens,” he jokes. “You _might_ just end up in detention painting sets with Ms. Darbus.”

“I’d rather not risk it since you’re already four spaces ahead,” he says. “Honestly, I think I deserve a head start! I mean, you _did_ write all the questions.”

“Remind me whose idea it was to play again?” Carlos teases. He spins the wheel, moving up one and landing on a space that tells him he loses the championship game at East High, making him move back three steps. “Great. Now I have to skip my turn.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” EJ says, but he’s practically beaming. He takes his turn and moves up five. “Huh. Advance two spaces closer to center stage.” 

Carlos rubs his temples. “I know you’re trying not to brag, but you’re doing a _terrible_ job of it.” 

He laughs. “That’s no way to talk to your East High rival.” He grabs a card from the Looking for _Glee_ category. “It says I have twenty seconds to sing the chorus to ‘When There Was Me and You.’ It’s like the game _wants_ me to win.”

“ _Ha_ , _ha_ ,” Carlos says, but he’s smiling all the same. “Your time starts...now!”

Immediately, EJ puts on his game face and begins singing. “I thought you were my fairytale, my dream when I’m not sleeping. A wish upon a star, that’s coming true…” He meets Carlos’s eyes, and something in his throat sticks. As he continues the chorus, he realizes it’s his heart ribbiting in his throat, the beating roaring in his ears. “But everybody else could tell, that I confused my feelings with the truth. When there was me and you.”

Neither of them say anything for a few seconds, and Carlos is pretty sure his mouth parts in the slightest. If EJ notices, he doesn’t say anything, instead ploring at him with those green eyes of his. “So, did I get my time?”

“Hm?” He clears his throat, shaking his head as if that will somehow rid him of his daze. “Oh, yeah. You get to move up three spaces.”

EJ uses his game piece to jump ahead, landing on the square in the middle of the board. “Wait, did I just make it to center stage? Did I win?”

Weirdly enough, Carlos can’t even find it in himself to be disappointed; as stupid as it is, seeing EJ’s excitement about having won is kind of worth it. “Congratulations! I now pronounce you the king of East High,” he smiles. 

“ _Yes_!” EJ exclaims. After a pause, he asks, “So, what do I win?”

“Um, bragging rights?” Carlos says. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think that part through. Before today, I never thought I’d even get the chance to play with anyone.”

When he looks up, EJ’s smiling at him, a mixture of softness and pity that isn’t exactly unpleasant. “Well, I guess that’s a problem for another day,” he says. “But _you_ still owe me a prize for this round.”

“Deal,” Carlos laughs. And not that he’d ever tell Ashlyn, but he’s kind of glad that she went out of town, too, if only for the fact that it means EJ’s here playing a _High School Musical_ themed board game with him instead of anywhere else.

* * *

Christmas rolls around not long after Thanksgiving, something that Carlos, Ashlyn, and EJ couldn’t be more excited for. “I _can’t_ believe we get two whole weeks off of school,” EJ says, plopping down next to Carlos on the sectional. The three of them are hanging out in Ashlyn’s basement, and if Carlos thought that EJ was normally cheery, it’s nothing compared to when they have a break from school. “I mean, _two_ _weeks_. I don’t even know what to do with all of it,” he continues.

“I do,” Ashlyn says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “How about we protest the cruise our parents are taking us on? We won’t even be home for Christmas!”

“Come on, Ash. It’ll be fun. Besides, the tickets are already booked, and you know how our parents are about refunds,” he points out. He looks at Carlos pleadingly, his heart spasming almost on instinct. “Tell her, Carlos.”

He gives her a serious look. “Ashlyn, he’s right. You _know_ how your parents are about refunds,” he says, and she belly laughs.

“Okay, forget I said anything,” EJ says, face morphing into mock disapproval. “The real question is what’s Carlos going to do while we’re gone?”

Carlos shrugs half-heartedly; he hasn’t let himself think about it all that much. “I don’t know. Stay home, watch TV, cry,” he jokes. In reality, though that’s probably not too far off from the truth; ever since they’d met, he doesn’t think he’s ever spent more than a day without seeing either Ashlyn or EJ, and with both of them leaving for an entire _week_ , he’s not sure exactly how he’ll manage. 

EJ puts a hand on his arm, and immediately, Carlos freezes, still not used to the comfort and assurance of the gesture even after all this time. “Don’t worry, dude. We’ll make sure to bring you back a _bunch_ of souvenirs right, Ash?”

She nods fervently, and Carlos appreciates their efforts to cheer him up, even if it doesn’t change the fact that they’ll be gone for a whole week. “Of course. And we’ll send you postcards! I doubt it’ll even be that much fun, anyway.”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” EJ says, and both of them shoot him a matching glare. He gives them a sheepish smile before turning to face Carlos. “It’s too bad that you can’t come with us, though. Ashlyn’s right, it won’t be _half_ as fun without you.”

Carlos smiles, knowing he’s being sincere, even if it’s his own EJ version of it. “I know. My parents are just so needy, wanting me home with them for Christmas,” he jokes, and the three of them giggle.

“All right, instead of thinking about how much we’re going to miss Carlos, how about we open gifts?” EJ asks.

Ashlyn rolls her eyes, scoffing. “Wow, you always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Sorry, I just thought it might be better than _talking_ about how sad we are. It’s depressing!”

Carlos snorts; as upset as he is, EJ is _clearly_ determined to make him forget he was ever sad in the first place, and for that, he’s grateful. “He’s right. Talking about it is _not_ going to change anything. So...who’s ready to open presents?” 

Ashlyn jumps up from her spot on the floor. “Me first!” EJ and Carlos share a curious look as she disappears upstairs.

“What do you think it is?” Carlos asks. 

EJ shrugs. “Knowing Ashlyn, probably something that’s going to make everybody cry?” Carlos laughs silently, a puff of breath from his nostrils more than anything. “Probably not the best distraction, but oh well.”

A few moments later, she comes rushing down the stairs, two glittery red and green gift bags in hand. Carlos thinks if they hit the light right, the sparkles will render them all blind. She has a huge smile on her face as she drops one in each of their laps, hands clasped together in excitement. “Well, go ahead, open them!”

Carlos grins as he draws out the colorful tissue paper stuffed in the bag and reaches inside, pulling out something square and wooden with engravings on the front. It takes him all of two seconds to realize that it’s a picture frame with their names carved into it, underneath the words “best friends.” The picture inside is of the three of them on their last day of school from the year before, EJ standing in the middle with Ashlyn and Carlos on either side of him, arms linked and grinning for the camera. He’s never even had a reason to put a picture frame in his room before, let alone one that has his _best friends_ in it. “EJ, you were right,” he says, eyes tearing up. “I’m gonna cry. Ashlyn, this is _amazing_ ,” Carlos says, and she’s beaming proudly, her eyes glistening.

She turns to EJ, who’s silently staring at the picture frame in his hands. “EJ? What do you think?”

He looks up and laughs wetly, a tear rolling down his face. “I think this was a bad idea if we were trying to _stop_ being emotional.” Carlos and Ashlyn join in, the three of them laughing, and Carlos isn’t sure he’s ever been this happy.

“Okay, I’ll go next,” Carlos says after a moment. He turns around and unzips his backpack from where it had been resting against the couch, pulling out the presents he’d carefully wrapped a few nights before. “Ashlyn, here’s yours,” he says, handing her a green package covered in reindeer, “and here’s EJ’s,” he adds, passing him a red present decorated with twinkle lights. He digs through the front of his bag again before producing two Ziplock bags of treats. “I also have these sugar cookies that me and my mom made,” he smiles.

“Aw, you made these?” Ashlyn asks, taking one of the bags. 

EJ takes the other one, inspecting the sugary contents inside. “They’re so cute,” he laughs. “Thanks, Carlos.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You still have to open your actual presents,” he laughs. 

Together, they rip open the wrapping paper, revealing the shiny packaging underneath. “It’s an HSM notebook and pencil set!” Carlos explains. 

“I always wanted one of these! Thanks, dude,” EJ says, a grin uplifting his features, and Carlos feels a swell of pride. 

Ashlyn hugs it to her chest. “I love it! I can’t _wait_ to use this for writing my poetry. Thank you, Carlos.” He’s not sure he’s ever been this proud of himself, but if he has, he never got used to the feeling, warmth surging through his veins with a sense of purpose. It’s definitely not an unwelcome feeling, to say the least, and he knows it’s because of his constant want to make his friends happy that it arrives at all. 

“Well, I guess that means it’s my turn,” EJ says with a smile. He rummages through his backpack, pulling out two carefully folded pieces of black fabric. “Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap them. They literally _just_ came in today.”

Carlos takes one of the bundles from his arms, and when he unfurls it, he’s pretty sure his jaw drops to the floor. “EJ...you didn’t,” he says.

“Oh, but I did,” he says, an earnest lilt in his voice. “I mean, come on, we had to get them eventually, right? Otherwise, it would’ve just been a wasted opportunity. _And_ you haven’t even seen the best part!” EJ takes the shirt and flips it over the other side, holding it up so Carlos can see. It’s all black except for _Carlos_ printed neatly at the top in plain white letters.

Carlos is too in awe to respond, fingers tracing the imprint of the words _Glee Club_ on the front of the shirt in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually did this,” he says. A smile overtakes his face, doing what all the words stuck in his throat can’t.

“Of course I did,” EJ smiles, and in that moment, Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever met another person that makes him happier than EJ Caswell does with that smile. 

“These are _amazing_ , EJ, thank you,” Ashlyn gushes, pulling him into a hug. 

After a few moments, EJ holds out his free arm and smiles. “Get in here, Carlos,” he grins.

He happily joins in, letting himself be pulled in by EJ and all the warmth that seems to be ignited in him. All Carlos hopes is that this is enough to get him through the next week they’ll be gone, and even though he knows it won’t nearly suffice, he soaks in the comfort and joy of the moment with his two best friends. 

* * *

“How many times have we argued about this now? Twelve?” Carlos jokes as Ashlyn pulls out her iPod. For what seems like the billionth time, her and EJ are trying to convince him to watch the sequels to the original _High School Musical_ with absolutely no luck. Well, moreso Ashlyn than EJ, anyway; he’s currently busy texting his girlfriend, _Sasha_ , which Carlos tells himself he couldn’t be happier about, because why wouldn’t he be? EJ’s been one of his best friends for years, and the fact that he has his first girlfriend is irrelevant to anything that has to do with him and EJ.

He only wishes he were more convincing than Ashlyn is about making him watch the HSM sequels. 

“You’re exaggerating,” she huffs. Carlos knows for a fact he isn’t because he’s been keeping count, but he digresses. “I’m _not_ making you watch the movies right now. I just want to show you the best scene from the entire franchise and see if _that_ will change your mind.” She types something into her web browser and pulls up a video, the thumbnail showing Troy and Gabriella dancing on the garden rooftop from the original movie. 

EJ scoffs, looking up from his phone for the first time in ten minutes. “You mean _one_ of the best scenes. Don’t forget about ‘Stick to the Status Quo.’”

“Please. Who could forget about ‘Stick to the Status Quo?’” she scoffs. “Carlos, prepare yourself for the song and dance of a lifetime!” She presses play on the video, a soft medley emitting from the speakers as she turns around. “EJ, are you going to be present and watch this with us?”

“In a minute,” he mumbles, fingers still tapping against the screen.

Carlos internally sighs; EJ hasn’t done anything other than text, call, or FaceTime Sasha ever since they started dating (so two weeks and four days, _not_ that he’s keeping track or anything.) “Carlos, are you watching?” Ashlyn asks, nudging him.

He shakes his head, snapping himself out of his daze. “Yeah, sorry.” It’s not like EJ’s been paying attention to him lately, anyway, so why should he?

He forces himself to give his full attention to Ashlyn’s video, which, as it turns out, is not at all hard to do. The chemistry between Troy and Gabriella as they waltz on the rooftop is practically tangible, and not for the first time, Carlos wishes he could jump through the screen and live inside the movie. 

“So, what did you think?” Ashlyn asks. She shuts off her iPod, turning to him with wide, hopeful eyes, and Carlos almost feels bad for what he’s about to say.

“Well…,” he starts. “I’m still not totally convinced, but I _would_ like to learn the dance to that song if that’s anything.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Ashlyn groans, throwing her hands up in the air. “You’re hopeless.” She stands up, abandoning her iPod on the ground. “I’m going to get some snacks. Maybe _that_ will keep me from killing you both.”

EJ suddenly glances up, scandalized. “Me? What did I do?”

“Huh, I don’t know. Maybe if you stopped doing this,” she huffs, miming texting with her thumbs. “Seriously, it’s been _hours_. Give it a rest and talk to your friends, maybe?” 

She stomps up the stairs as EJ calls after her, “But we’re cousins!” Sighing, he slumps down next to Carlos. “Do _you_ think I’m talking to Sasha too much?” he asks.

Carlos looks up at him, EJ’s face softened with worry, and he knows he can’t say what he desperately wants to, which is “ _Duh_!” 

Instead, he lets out a sigh and says, “Maybe?” EJ’s face falls, and Carlos regrets saying anything at all. “I mean, she _is_ your first girlfriend and everything, but…” He trails off, not wanting to make the situation worse.

EJ shakes his head, sighing. “No, you’re right. Maybe I should take a break. At _least_ for a few minutes.” He holds his phone out to Carlos. “Take care of this for me?”

Carlos’s eyes widen; he really hadn’t expected him to give up his _phone_ of all things, but he nods. “Yeah, sure,” he says, taking it and setting it in his lap. “So...how is Samantha?” He knows it’s not actually her name, but he figures he’s allowed at least a _little_ bit of pettiness given the situation.

“Sasha,” EJ corrects, but there’s no heat to it. “And she’s great. I know she’s my first girlfriend and stuff, but...I don’t know,” he laughs. “I like her a lot.”

He’s smiling, and even though it’s the same smile he’s worn since the day they’d met (sans the braces; he’d got them taken off last month), something about it feels different. Maybe it’s because they’re getting older. Or maybe, Carlos thinks sourly, it’s because he’s smiling for a reason that isn’t him. 

His heart’s handled many things over the years; it’s weathered the wounds of humiliation and hurt, as well as triumphed with the warmth of happiness and love, but this is the first time it’s suffered through the raging storm of jealousy. His chest is filled with so much green envy that he thinks it could easily be mistaken for a swamp. And it’s not like he doesn’t know _why_ at this point, because he does, or has, for some time now. He knows that his feelings concerning EJ have always been there, prodding and lurking in the back of his head and just waiting to make themselves known. And for even longer than that, he’s known he likes boys, and recent events have been more than enough to confirm that he _solely_ likes boys, even if he’s never admitted that fact out loud. “Oh. Well, I’m happy for you,” Carlos says finally, clearing his throat and looking away. 

He supposes this is why he’s proclaimed himself a dancer and not an actor, because even _he_ knows he doesn’t sound very convincing, but if EJ notices, he doesn’t let on, instead letting out a laugh. “Thanks, Carlos,” he says. There’s a beat before he adds, “Hey, why don’t you find someone?”

The question catches him off guard; he’s not sure if he should lie (which he’s never done to EJ, at least not _well_ ) or just go ahead and get the truth out in the open. He’s thought about telling him before, of course, but in his head, it’s always miraculously followed by EJ saying, “Me too,” and both of them ending up happily ever after. Somehow, Carlos has a feeling that his daydreams are _not_ going to come true, and now that a possibility has presented itself to tell him, he’s a lot more worried about what he’ll think.

He shakes his head to himself; ever since they’d become friends, Carlos has always been afraid of the way EJ would react to the things about him—the way he acts, his love for dancing and musicals, his fashion sense—but he’s always accepted everything about Carlos without any judgement or second thought, so why would this be any different?

Slowly, he sucks in a breath, eyes flitting around nervously as he says, “EJ, you know I’m...gay, right?”

When Carlos finally meets his gaze, nothing on his face has changed except for widened eyes. “Oh. I mean, I kind of wondered, but I didn’t want to assume anything.”

He lets out the breath he’d been holding in. “Oh. So...you’re okay with it?”

EJ smiles, and the flames of envy in his chest are smothered, if only for a moment. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks.

Carlos shrugs, shaking his head. “I really don’t know,” he laughs. He feels both relieved and vulnerable, and somehow safe, too. And he guesses that feeling of safety has always come with EJ; he’s always been a vessel of acceptance and comfort and warmth, so the fact that he feels that way should not be as surprising as he finds it. EJ Caswell is always surprising him, and maybe that’s because Carlos keeps letting him, continuously believing that he’s too good to be true even when he’s proven otherwise. 

“Well, either way, I’m glad you told me,” EJ says.

Carlos smiles, and this time, he means it. “Me too.”

Suddenly, EJ’s phone buzzes in Carlos’s lap, catching both of them off guard. “It’s Sophia,” Carlos says, and this time, EJ just rolls his eyes. “Do you want to answer it?” 

“Carlos, no offense, but you’re an awful phone sitter,” he laughs. “But actually...no. I’ll answer her later.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, a swell of hope rising along with it. “Really? Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Because…,” EJ says. “I’m hanging out with you.” Carlos feels something catch in his throat, realizing a few seconds later that it’s his breath. “Besides, the conversation was getting boring, anyway. She kept asking me if I still liked her or not.”

Carlos forces out the air stuck in his throat and lets out a laugh. “Wow. She’s either really insecure, or you’re a _terrible_ boyfriend.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m a _terrific_ boyfriend!” EJ says. “I even send her good morning and good night texts.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s normal. I wouldn’t say that knocks you out of the ballpark for best boyfriend award,” Carlos snorts. 

“I’m a great boyfriend,” EJ says again, and now they’re both laughing. “Whatever. You’ll see.”

Carlos isn’t sure what he means by that, or if he even means _anything_ by it, but he doesn’t let himself read into it, because if he’s learned anything from the past half-an-hour, it’s that wishful thinking will get him nowhere. “If you say so,” he smiles.

Three weeks and two days later (again, not that Carlos is _counting_ or anything), EJ and Sasha break up. According to EJ, it’s because she’s too needy, which, based on the way he’d talked about her in the past, Carlos has no doubt that it’s true. When Ashlyn later comments that he seems to be in a good mood, Carlos knows most of the credit is due to their break-up, however hopeless his situation with EJ is. 

* * *

Once again, the three of them find themselves in Ashlyn’s basement, though this time, it’s because of a different circumstance, one that Carlos has been simultaneously looking forward to and dreading all week. EJ’s going away to theater camp for the entire month starting next week, so the three of them are having a weekend long sleepover before he has to leave Sunday afternoon. 

It starts out like any of their other sleepovers; they’re watching TV with the volume up way too loud, snacking on copious amounts of junk food, and talking to each other in between. At one point, Carlos pauses the show they’re watching and says, “You know what we should do?” Ashlyn and EJ look up at him, interest piqued. “We should make EJ a going-away cake.” He wants to do _something_ special for him before he leaves; why not a cake?

Clearly, there’s a spark of a good idea there because Ashlyn immediately sits up, a grin on her face. “ _Yes_ , Carlos!”

EJ gives them a bewildered look, laughing. “Guys, it’s already past ten o’clock. Plus I don’t think _any_ of us know how to make a cake.” 

“I’m pretty sure we have cake mix upstairs,” Ashlyn points out. “All we’d need is, like, water and an egg.”

“And who cares about the time? It’s your going-away sleepover!” Carlos says. “Come on, please, EJ?”

“Please, EJ?” Ashlyn repeats. 

Both of them force their biggest puppy eyes on him, and it only takes him a few seconds to cave. “Fine!” he exclaims. “Let’s go make a cake.”

Ashlyn and Carlos clap their hands together as they make their way upstairs, EJ and Carlos leaning against the kitchen counter while Ashlyn digs around in a cabinet. “The cake mix should be somewhere around...got it!” she says, pulling a cardboard box out of the cupboard. “I hope you like chocolate cake because that’s _kind of_ all we have,” she laughs.

EJ rolls his eyes. “It’s great, Ash, but you guys seriously don’t need to do this—”

“You’re going to theater camp for four weeks! The least you can do is let us make you a cake from a box,” Carlos says. He’s not sure why he’s being so adamant about doing this; maybe it’s because EJ deserves to have nice things done for him, or maybe it’s to distract from the fact that they won’t be able to see each other for an entire month. Either way, he’s going to make sure it happens, even if EJ refuses out of politeness. 

“He’s right, you know,” Ashlyn points out. She grabs a mixing bowl and rips open the box, pouring the chocolate cake mix inside. 

“All right, all right,” he says. “At least let me crack an egg open or something.”

Carlos looks to Ashlyn and they both laugh. “No offense, but...do you even know how to crack open an egg?”

EJ shrugs. “Sure I can. How hard can it be?”

“Maybe we should let you practice first,” Ashlyn says, pulling another bowl out of a cabinet, along with a few eggs. “Here. Show us how you crack an egg, Mr. Gordon Ramsay.”

Carlos stifles a laugh as EJ raises his eyebrows confidently. “Challenge accepted,” he says, taking the egg from her. He holds it for a few moments before smashing it against the rim of the bowl, shells and yolk flying everywhere.

“‘How hard can it be?’” Ashlyn cackles. Carlos laughs alongside her, tears filling his eyes after a few minutes of doubling over. “EJ, that was _terrible_!” she says once they calm down.

“Yeah, I get it, thanks,” he says, rolling his eyes.

Carlos takes a deep breath and exhales in an attempt to get himself under control. “Wow, okay, let’s try this again,” he says, handing him another egg. “But _this_ time, don’t smash it. Be softer, like this.” He takes a stray egg off the counter, tapping it against the bowl with light force before splitting the shell apart. “Now you try.”

EJ sighs, nodding as he cracks another one. It takes him about three more tries to finally get one successfully in the bowl. “Great job, EJ! I mean, there goes our breakfast,” Carlos jokes, “but you did good.”

“Thanks,” he laughs, “but I _think_ I’ll leave the rest to you guys if we want to finish this up before midnight.”

“Good thinking,” Ashlyn says. “All right, I’ll get the oil. Carlos, you get the water.”

“On it,” he says. Within ten minutes, they have the cake mix in a pan and baking in the oven. Together, the three of them make an attempt to clean up their mess (which is _not_ easy; Carlos is pretty sure that some of the egg yolk is stuck permanently to the wall) as they wait for the cake to rise in the oven. Once it’s finished and cooled, they smother the spongy surface with chocolate frosting, haphazardly writing, “Have fun at camp, EJ!” in messy pink frosting. 

“You know what, this isn’t half bad,” EJ says. They’re all downstairs again, sitting cross-legged on the floor and eating their thick slices of chocolate cake (though EJ’s is the thickest, obviously, since they made it in his honor.) “Good thing you let me practice cracking eggs first, otherwise, this would be a _lot_ crunchier.”

“Yeah, I wonder whose genius idea that was?” Ashlyn jokes.

Carlos stabs at a piece of his cake, cutting the “n” off of “fun.” “I just don’t know how we’re going to sleep tonight after eating all of this sugar,” he says.

“Ooh, I have an idea!” Ashlyn says. “How about we pull an all-nighter?”

“I don’t know…,” EJ says, nose crinkling. “Carlos, what do you think?”

He glances up, Ashlyn silently pleading with him while EJ looks at him inquisitively. He knows he’ll probably regret it in the morning, but at this point, getting to spend as much time with EJ as possible before he leaves is his one and only priority. “I think...let’s do it!” he says.

Ashlyn claps her hands together and EJ groans, but he’s smiling all the same. “Okay, but how are we going to stay awake, ‘cause not gonna lie, I’m _already_ falling asleep,” he says. 

Suddenly, a thought pops in Carlos’s mind, the imaginary lightbulb above his head flickering like crazy. “Oh! How about we play truth or dare?”

“Yes!” Ashlyn exclaims. “You keep coming up with all the best ideas tonight.”

“Thanks, I try,” Carlos laughs, a pleasant feeling spreading in his chest. “EJ, you in?”

EJ grins. “Sure. I’ll go first.” He dramatically turns to his left and says, “So, Ashlyn, truth or dare?”

She hums for a moment, fingers stroking her chin thoughtfully. “I’ll go with...dare!” she exclaims.

“Well, in that case…,” EJ says, “you have to read us something from your songwriting book.”

Ashlyn’s mouth falls open, and Carlos gives him a shocked look of his own. She’s always been too embarrassed to share anything from her song book, and that has _definitely_ never been a secret to either of them. “Seriously? Way to take the fun out of truth or dare, EJ!” she says, punching his arm.

He winces and rubs over the afflicted spot with his knuckles. “It’s not my fault you picked dare! Besides, it’s time you shared one of your songs with us. It’s been literal _years_.” When she crosses her arms and gives him a skeptical look, he adds, “Come on, consider it my official going-away present. Please?”

She uncrosses her arms and sighs. “You’re going to run that excuse into the ground, aren’t you?”

Carlos snorts. “Knowing EJ, of course he is.” EJ narrows his eyes at him. “No offense,” he adds.

“All right, fine!” Ashlyn says. “Let me go get my song book. By the way, I’m _only_ singing the first verse and the chorus!” She runs upstairs and comes back down a few minutes later, holding a book bound together with an elastic strap. “There’s really no way for me to get out of doing this?” she asks.

“Nope,” EJ says, and her face falls. “You’re going to do _great_ , Ash, I promise. Right, Carlos?”

He nods fervently. “He’s not wrong, Ashlyn. I’m pretty sure it’s _impossible_ for you to be bad at anything. I mean, you _are_ related to EJ, after all.”

Ashlyn gives a confused smile. “Thanks, I guess?” She takes a deep breath. “All right. Here goes nothing...” 

Slowly, almost shakily, she starts singing a group of lyrics from her book, her voice growing more confident with each line. From what Carlos can gather, it’s about someone that always feels out of place, like they don’t belong anywhere, and even now, Carlos thinks he can sometimes relate. At school, when he’s by himself, he still feels like a freak spectacle in the opening act at a circus, somehow managing to be invisible and stand out at the same time. He’s guessing that based on the lyrics, Ashlyn feels the same way sometimes, too. 

He doubts that EJ could relate at all to what she’s singing; where Carlos and Ashlyn tend to not fit in anywhere at all, EJ can mesh and mold himself into anything anyone needs him to be: an outstanding athlete, a talented theater kid, a shining student, a doting son, and, when the situation rarely calls for it, himself. (And something Carlos is starting to notice is that that seems to be less and less than it used to be. Before middle school, EJ was always a beacon of light and warmth, so bright that it was impossible for him to miss it, and now, Carlos sometimes has trouble finding him in the sea of dull masks and lackluster disguises he so often wears.)

When Ashlyn finishes, she clears her throat and her gaze falls to the floor. “So...what’d you think?” she asks.

He shakes his head, effectively snapping himself out of his daze. “That was amazing!” Carlos exclaims, clapping his hands together. He might’ve zoned out for about half of it, but if her lyric-writing is profound enough to send him into an in-depth analysis of himself and those closest to him, he knows it must’ve been good. “We should’ve made you do that _years_ ago.”

She beams, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Thanks, Carlos. What did you think, EJ?”

He seems to be lost in thought, and Carlos nudges him. He shakes his head and blinks, like he’s being awakened from a daydream. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, that was awesome, Ash! Seriously, I can’t believe we’ve never heard you sing your own songs before.”

Ashlyn smiles wider before letting out a little laugh. “Okay, enough focus on _that_ ,” she says, sitting back down on the floor. “Carlos, truth or dare?”

He thinks for a moment; he’s never really been a fan of dares, always too afraid of the risk behind them, so his choice is practically made for him by default. “Truth, obviously.”

She grins, like she’d been expecting it, and really, Carlos guesses he’s just that predictable. “Since _I_ had to share something deep and personal, tell us something you’ve never told anyone before.”

Carlos blinks in shock. Immediately, one thing comes to mind, but he’s not sure if during a game of truth or dare is the right time or not. “Um...does it matter if I’ve only told one other person?” he asks. “We all know I talk way too much to actually keep secrets from _everybody_.”

“I’ll allow it,” Ashlyn says. “So...what is it, Carlos?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him, and Carlos can sense EJ’s wide-eyed gaze searing a hole into the side of his head, and suddenly, he can’t hold it in anymore.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out, and almost immediately, the teasing expression drops from Ashlyn’s face.

“Carlos!” she exclaims, and he exhales as she reaches across the floor to squeeze his hand. “I know I said you had to say something deep and personal, but you didn’t have to tell us if you weren’t ready!”

He shakes his head, an uneasy laugh escaping his lips. “No, I wanted to,” he says. “Besides, I thought _both_ of you should know, not just one of you.”

Ashlyn’s eyes widen. “Wait a minute...you mean _EJ_ knows already?”

“ _And_ I’m the first person you told?” he asks. “Wow, a lot of surprise twists this evening.”

Carlos laughs again; he’s not sure if he could’ve asked for a better, more on-brand reaction from them than this. “Yes. I told EJ a few months ago after you got mad at him for talking to Sarah,” he says, which emits nothing more than a snort from EJ this time around. “But it’s _not_ because I didn’t want to tell you first.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s okay, Carlos, I get it. I’m just glad you told me at all,” she smiles. “So...when do you think you’ll tell your parents?”

He shrugs; he’s only given it minor thought in comparison to contemplating telling his best friends. “Honestly, I’m _pretty_ sure my mom already knows. Whenever we’re watching TV together, she keeps telling me which men she finds attractive and asking me what I think.”

“Wow,” Ashlyn laughs. “Well, I’m sure you’ll tell them eventually.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Anyway, moving on!”

They play a couple more rounds before it’s Ashlyn’s turn again. “EJ, truth or dare?” she asks.

He leans back on his palms and stifles a yawn. “You know what? I’ll go with truth. I’m feeling a little crazy tonight.”

“Wow, you’re so wild,” Ashlyn deadpans. “Hm...I actually can’t think of anything.”

EJ frowns. “Seriously? The one time I pick truth, and you’re totally blank?”

“Sorry! We’ve been playing for a while and I’m tired,” she says. “Here, let me see if I can look one up.” She pulls out her iPod and begins tapping on the screen, seeming to scroll through a list of some sort. “Oh! Here’s a good one. Say your favorite thing about the person to your right.” 

It doesn’t take long for Carlos to figure out that means _him_ , and immediately, his ears perk up, preparing to listen to every word.

“Oh. That’s easy,” EJ says, meeting Carlos’s gaze, and something in his chest goes soft and gooey in the middle. “You always make me smile.”

Though EJ’s actions are becoming more of a facade than a sincerity nowadays, Carlos knows that he’s being completely truthful when he says it, which makes it all the more difficult to not fall for him just a little more. “ _Aww_ ,” Ashlyn says, hands clasped at her chest.

“ _And_ moment ruined!” EJ laughs, but it isn’t, at least not for Carlos. “Anyway, what should we do now? I’m honestly getting kind of bored of truth or dare.”

Ashlyn seems to think for a moment. “I’ve got an idea. But you both have to _promise_ not to laugh!” Before Carlos can protest, she adds, “And yes, I’m mostly talking to EJ.”

“Wow, that’s harsh, Ash,” he says. “But I _promise_ if that makes you feel any better.”

“It does!” She gets up off the floor and runs up the stairs for the second time that night, steps hurried with excitement when she comes stumbling back down. She doesn’t seem to look any different than she had to begin with, or at least that’s what Carlos thinks until she sits back down and opens up her fist. Sitting in her palm are ivory, jade, and cobalt-colored crystals, three in total. “They’re my lucky crystals,” she smiles. “I got them from my grandma.”

“Okay…,” Carlos says. “But what’s this have to do with your idea?”

She beams as if she’d been waiting for someone to ask just that, and knowing Ashlyn, she probably had. “I thought we could use them! You know, that way it’ll give all of us good luck until the next time we’re together.”

Carlos resists the urge to let out an _Aww_ at the words, and not that he needed even _more_ confirmation, but he’s completely convinced that Ashlyn’s the most sentimental person he’s ever met. “Do they actually work?” EJ asks. He takes the cobalt one from her and rolls it over in his hands, the action somewhat mesmerizing.

“They haven’t let me down once,” Ashlyn says with a hint of pride. She passes the jade green crystal to Carlos, and he can’t help but notice its striking resemblance to EJ’s eyes. Or maybe he’s just caught up in the euphoria of EJ giving him a compliment. “Let’s all take a moment to wish ourselves good luck for when we’re apart.” 

Carlos nods, watching as Ashlyn holds hers very seriously, clenching it in her palm as she seems to meditate. He turns to EJ, who shrugs and holds it in his fist tightly, and Carlos follows suit. The whole thing feels a little over-the-top and silly, but what is their friend group if not dramatic? 

Either way, though, Carlos finds himself squeezing the rock into the flat of his palm and hopes that somehow, the three of them will survive the summer completely unscathed. 

After a moment, Ashlyn exhales and opens her eyes, EJ and Carlos already looking back at her. “Wow. Did you guys even _try_ using the crystals?”

“Yes,” EJ counters, clearly amused. “But even if we _didn’t_ , I can tell you right now that we’re going to be fine. I mean, we always are, right?”

Carlos nods, and because it’s EJ, he fully-heartedly takes stock in every word, even if the needles of doubt and worry are poking at every open wound in his chest. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

Both of them try to pass the crystals back to Ashlyn, but she shakes her head. “No. I want you to keep them, at _least_ until EJ comes back from camp. That way, we’re all still connected even when we’re apart,” she smiles, and again, Carlos has to stop himself from letting out an _Aww_. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s what phones are for,” EJ jokes. Ashlyn gives him an eye roll in response. “Seriously, though, are you sure you want us to take these? These seem like they’re really important to you,” he says, looking down at the blue rock in his hand.

“They are,” she shrugs. “But you guys are even more important to me.” Carlos can’t even contain himself this time, heart full and eyes aching with a flood of inevitable happy tears as he flings his arms around Ashlyn. She lets out a laugh, body shaking with the movement as he pulls away. “Thanks, Carlos. By the way, you two _better_ not lose them, or my grandma will have a cow,” she jokes, and the three of them laugh for one of their last times together for the next four weeks. “Promise me you’ll take yours to camp, all right, EJ?”

He nods, smiling as he twirls it from knuckle to knuckle. “Okay,” he says. “I promise.”

* * *

Naturally, the three of them don’t make it until morning, barely getting past two before dozing off and staying that way. Well, at least Ashlyn and EJ seem to be doing pretty well on that front, anyway—unfortunately for Carlos, he can’t stop drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to stop tossing and turning on Ashlyn’s sofa (which is actually very comfortable, so he’s pretty sure _that’s_ not the issue at hand.) He knows it probably has to do with the fact that in less thirty-six hours, EJ will be on his way to musical theater camp for the next four weeks, a thought that’s keeping him from getting any kind of rest, whether mental or physical.

Clearly he’s not the only one suffering from the restlessness of their situation, because eventually, he hears a rustling from the couch opposite him. He glances over and sees EJ rolling to his side, the whites of his eyes glistening faintly in the darkness. “Hey,” he whispers. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really,” he whispers back. Carlos isn’t sure what he thinks is going to happen, but he certainly doesn’t expect EJ to pick up his blanket and shuffle over to his couch. Carlos pulls up his feet as he curls up on the empty space in front of him, the whole thing feeling so effortless and comfortable that it’s almost like this is a usual occurrence for them (which it most certainly is _not_ ; Carlos is pretty sure he’d remember his heart wanting to spontaneously combust like it does right now.)

“Me neither,” he admits. 

Carlos snorts. “Really? Because you were practically dead as far as I could tell.”

EJ rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, towards the end there, I started having a nightmare.” He glances away, staring off at something in the distance, and knowing EJ, he’s probably embarrassed about having a dream that was less-than-perfect.

“Oh,” Carlos says slowly. “What...about, exactly?”

He shrugs, and Carlos can’t help but notice the way his fingers are fiddling with the loose threads on his blanket. “I don’t know,” he says, even though Carlos is pretty sure he does, because why else would he be telling him at five in the morning? “Possibly about going to camp and everyone decides they hate me in the first five minutes.”

And _oh_ . As long as they’d been friends, Carlos had rarely ever seen EJ doubt himself, and especially never insecure about other people’s ability to be charmed by him. “EJ, I’m not lying when I say I’m _pretty_ sure that’s humanly impossible. You’re, like, the nicest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah…,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very convinced. There’s a long pause between them, one that Carlos wants to fill with every good thing he’s ever thought about EJ, but instead, he says none of it. “Hey, Carlos?”

“Yeah?” he asks. He pretends his heartbeat’s not roaring in his ears, like he’s not desperately waiting for whatever he’s going to say next, even though the complete opposite is true for both circumstances. (But it’s not like _EJ_ of all people needs to know that.)

He finally meets his gaze, eyes wide and ploring, and Carlos’s breath hitches in his throat. “Do you ever feel like people only want you to be anything but yourself?” he asks. 

The question takes him aback. Even though Carlos had noticed that about EJ, he’d never thought _EJ_ would. Instead of saying that, however, he scoffs, asking, “Sorry, but have you _met_ my classmates?”

EJ smiles, though it’s smaller than he’s used to and doesn’t shine half as bright. “Right. Stupid question,” he says, eyes falling to his lap, and Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this out of sorts. To say it's completely unnerving is an _understatement_.

Carlos knocks his knee forward and nudges him. “Hey, it’s not stupid. Why are you asking?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t know, there’s just...a lot changing, I guess. Including me.” 

Ninety-nine percent of Carlos is wanting to grab his hand and make him feel as safe as he’s made him feel over the years, but the one percent holds him back, too scared of what the aftermath would mean for their friendship. “Hey, it’ll all be okay,” he says, and immediately, he regrets it, knowing how lame it must sound. EJ still looks up, though, eyes curious if not exactly hopeful, and he supposes that’s better than nothing. “Everything could change tomorrow, but at least this never will, right?” he asks. EJ’s eyes widen, and too late, Carlos realizes how what he’d said had sounded. “I mean, me, you, and Ashlyn are always going to be friends no matter what happens. Even if everyone at camp somehow manages to hate you and your perfect smile,” he says, EJ’s teeth poking out from underneath his lips, “we’ll be here.”

EJ nods, smiling like everything makes sense again, and Carlos is just glad that _he’s_ able to solve his problems for once. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for reminding me, dude.” He leans back against the arm of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as silence consumes the space between them for a few beats. As always, EJ is the one to break it, never one to handle the silence for very long. “Hey, don’t tell Ashlyn, but...I think I’m going to miss you the most.”

Carlos thinks he can physically feel his heart swell, and all at once, he becomes hyper-aware of everything around him: the way his and EJ’s feet are tangled together underneath the blankets, the fact that EJ had even come over here at all and let Carlos comfort him. Then he starts thinking about other things: how EJ supported him when he came out, the way he’s never made him apologize for who he is, how he’d befriended him that day on the playground all because of a few tears and a _Glee_ T-shirt. And all of a sudden, Carlos wants to _tell him_ , tell him the way that he feels whenever EJ walks into a room, how flashing that perfect smile at him makes his heart skip a beat and every other cliché thing in the universe. “EJ…,” he says, voice hushed with awe, and he’s ready, he’s _going_ to tell him no matter how terrified the idea makes him feel. 

But he’s already half-asleep, eyes closed and only giving a hum of acknowledgement to let him know that he heard him. In that split second, he loses his nerve, feeling stupid for having had any in the first place. EJ’s EJ, and he’s, well...he’s just Carlos. And what kind of happy ending portrays the charming jock ending up with the gay, dance-obsessed nerd? None of them. 

Carlos shakes his head and finishes lamely, “I’m...going to miss you, too.”

He can see EJ smile, but he doesn’t say anything, instead snuggling down further into the couch and letting out a sleepy sigh of content. 

Carlos follows suit, not letting himself think about EJ laying across from him and closing his eyes, hoping that somehow, his all-consuming thoughts about EJ will shut themselves off long enough to let him sleep.

* * *

Somehow, Carlos manages to survive the summer without EJ, though he won’t say he does it completely unscathed like he’d foolishly hoped.

The first week without him is especially rough. Him and Ashlyn spend it moping around in her basement, eating popsicles and pretending that they’re not depressed without their third member of the Glee Club (because even though they try to act like nothing’s changed, EJ’s absence sticks out more than either of them are willing to admit.)

Despite that, however, they still jump whenever they get a text from him, typing back a response as quickly as their fingers can manage. Sometimes, it’s an update of how the musical’s going (shocker—he scored the lead), and other times, it’s to tell them a story involving his camp friends (he’d never admit to it, but whenever EJ texts about _them_ , Carlos always takes a little longer to answer than usual.)

The longer he’s gone, his texts become fewer and farther between; what once were long paragraphs about his day-to-day activities are now short few word answers, and that’s when he actually decides to respond at all. Carlos tries to tell himself it’s because he’s busy, preparing to be the lead in the camp musical and whatnot, but even _he_ fails in deluding himself this once. 

* * *

“Ashlyn?” Carlos asks her one night. They’re currently at his house, playing a board game they found in an old closet somewhere (he’d considered introducing her to _High School Musical_ : The Choosical, but the thought stirred up memories that made his heart ache with the past, and he decided against it.) “Do you think EJ misses us as much as we miss him?”

She looks up from the rainbow-colored board and offers him an empathetic smile. “Of course he does. I’m sure he’s just extra-busy preparing for the musical and everything.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Carlos says, though he doesn’t really believe it. “I don’t know. I know we all promised that we’d stay friends and everything, but...this doesn’t feel like that.” 

“Hey, I get that. You know what I do when I feel worried about it?” She pulls the ivory crystal out of her pocket, and Carlos realizes he should have known where this was heading. “I just hold this and it makes me feel like we’re all connected.”

Carlos smiles. “Have I ever told you that you’re the most adorable person I’ve ever met?” 

She laughs and shakes her head. “No, but I’ll gladly accept your compliment.” She rolls the dice and lands on a four, moving up a few spaces. “Seriously, though, you should try it. I know it sounds silly, but it actually works. Well, at least it does for me, anyway.” 

“No, I will. Thanks, Ashlyn,” he says. They continue playing their board game, and when Ashlyn wins, Carlos can’t help but think about EJ bragging about his own win a few years back. It brings a smile on his face; a temporary one, maybe, but he’s grateful for it nonetheless.

* * *

When he gets home, he finds the polished green crystal on his nightstand where he’d left it just a few weeks before. He picks it up and squeezes it in his palm, expecting to feel a rippling connection or even a hum of energy or _something_. Instead, he feels nothing, just the cold, empty weight of a rock in his palm. He sets it back down and tries to suppress the hollow sadness making a home in his chest. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t work either.

* * *

The following week, Ashlyn’s family goes on a trip to the mountains, and the week after, Carlos and his parents take their annual vacation to the beach. It’s the longest time he thinks the three of them have spent completely apart, and it leaves everything feeling weirdly unbalanced and off-kilter. Of course, Carlos’s last night in San Francisco is the day that EJ comes home from camp, which makes him feel about ten times worse than beforehand; he can’t believe he’s spent the last month practically counting down the seconds until EJ gets back, and he’s not even in Salt Lake to witness his return.

Still, though, his bitterness over their paths not crossing like he’d planned doesn’t stop him from finding the FaceTime button on his phone and clicking until he hears it dial. It rings once, twice, then a few more times before the call finally picks up, EJ’s grainy face lighting up on his phone screen. “Hey, EJ! 

“Oh, hey, Carlos,” he says. “What’s up?”

Something about the greeting rubs him the wrong way, but he decides to just brush it off. “Who cares about me? What’s up with you? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever,” he smiles.

He gives an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, dude. Camp kept me really busy, especially with being the lead and everything.”

“Oh. Yeah, I bet,” Carlos says. He’d been hoping for a better explanation than _that_ , but again, he tells himself that he’s just overthinking things. “So, I don’t get back until tomorrow afternoon, but if you want to hang out—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure we’ll see each other eventually,” he says. He looks at something off camera. “Oops, gotta run. I’ll catch you later or something, okay?”

He tries to hide his disappointment, but based on his reflection on the screen, he can tell it doesn’t work out so well. “Oh, okay, see you—” he starts, but EJ’s already hanging up before he’s finished. 

Carlos lets out a sigh, making his dad lower the radio and turn around in his seat. “Everything all right, kiddo?” he asks.

He thinks about how his conversation with EJ made his skin itch, like a brand new sweater he hasn’t worn in yet. “Everything’s just perfect,” he huffs. His dad nods, and clearly, he doesn’t get the sarcastic tone to his voice because he turns back around and raises the volume again, humming along to the music playing. Again, he sighs, and if Carlos had been feeling weird and off-kilter before, it’s nothing compared to now. His heart feels like it’s been scrubbed raw, scars that had healed ages ago ready to burst open again at any given notice. 

Worst of all, he thinks this is the first time he’s been anything resembling angry at EJ, and in his opinion, that hurts worse than anything else does.

* * *

The next few weeks delve into a similar pattern; every time Carlos attempts to make plans or even _talk_ to EJ, he brushes him off or comes up with an excuse as to why they can’t hang out. Each interaction leaves him feeling more dismayed than the previous one, and he can’t help but wonder if things are ever going to go back to how they used to be.

“Hey, when’s the last time you talked to EJ?” Carlos asks Ashlyn one day in mid-July. They’re at the store shopping for school supplies together, one of the many traditions they partake in each summer. Of course, EJ typically tags along, but that was before he claimed to be too busy to hang out with his best friends.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, rummaging through a stack of notebooks. “A couple days, maybe?” She keeps thumbing through before she lands on a purple one, pulling it out from the disheveled pile and adding it to their cart. “How come? Is he still ignoring you?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it _ignoring_ ,” Carlos counters, “but...yeah.” He pretends to contemplate a box full of erasers before choosing a random pack and tossing it in. “I seriously have no idea what I did to make him hate me. Like, is there something about me specifically that makes me completely unbearable to be around?” He tries to make it sound like a joke, tries to act like he’s not hurt by it, but in actuality, he is, more than he’d ever like to admit.

Ashlyn gasps, nudging him in the shoulder with her fist. “Hey, of course not! I think maybe it’s just because he’s going into high school and he feels weird hanging around a bunch of junior high kids.”

“But he still hangs out with you,” Carlos points out. 

She rolls her eyes. “Only because we’re family. Lately, though, he’s just been glued to his phone. Trust me, it’s not just a you thing. He’ll come around eventually,” she smiles reassuringly. But Carlos notices that once she looks away, her smile drops, replaced with the habit she has for chewing her lip for when she gets worried. 

As delusional as Carlos can be sometimes, even _he_ knows that someone as reassuring as Ashlyn worrying about something typically isn’t a good sign.

* * *

When Carlos gets a text from EJ at the beginning of August, a part of him thinks that his heart stops. He has absolutely no clue what it could be about; apologies have never really been EJ’s style, and it’s not like they’ve talked recently, anyway, so whatever it is, he’s stumped.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Carlos slides open the text and squints at the screen, afraid of what’s there and of what’s not. When he eventually does read it, it says, _My birthday party’s Saturday at my house if u want to come?_

The question takes him aback; he’s been aware for the past month that EJ’s birthday was coming up, but he’d never let himself think that far ahead, too worried about their given predicament to even consider it for very long without his chest tightening with worry. The text almost seems like some sort of olive branch; what if this is what fixes everything between them? Because, even as upset as he is at EJ, he thinks he’d forgive him in a heartbeat if it means things could go back to the way they were before. 

Quickly, he types back, _Sure! I’ll be over there around noon?_

He waits impatiently for his response, and once his phone buzzes a few minutes later, he thinks it actually startles him. _Cool. See u then_ , it says. And even though it’s barely anything at all, it’s still the longest conversation they’ve had in weeks, so if Carlos lets out a sigh of relief and dances around his room a little, it’s not like it’s hurting anyone.

* * *

On Saturday afternoon, Carlos arrives at EJ’s house, gift bag hanging on his wrist and his other surprise for EJ carefully caressed in his hands. Once he rings the doorbell with only a minimal amount of struggle, his mom greets him on the other side with a perfectly painted smile on her face (every time Carlos sees her, he thinks _that’s_ where EJ must get it from.) “Hi, Carlos!” she says. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Oh, well, you know how busy EJ’s been,” he jokes awkwardly, and he notices a puzzled look flash on her face before it bounces back into its normal smile. “So...is Ashlyn here yet?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet, but EJ and the other kids are downstairs right now if you want to join them! Do you want me to set those down for you?” 

_Other kids_? he thinks to himself, but he shakes it off. Obviously, he’s made some new friends over the summer; he shouldn’t be surprised that EJ would want them there, too, even if it does leave a strange sort of twisting in his gut. “No, it’s fine,” he says after a moment. “I’ll just take them down with me.”

She nods and steps aside to let him in, and Carlos shoots her a grateful smile before locating the basement door. Immediately upon entering, he hears an abundance of yelling and joking, along with some booming sound effects that he supposes probably belong to a video game. Once he reaches the bottom of the steps, several pairs of eyes fall on him, and the weight of their gaze has Carlos’s breakfast reeling for a comeback. “Who are _you_?” one of them asks, and for some reason, he doesn’t know how to answer.

And then suddenly EJ appears from the corner of the room like an angel descending straight from heaven, his skin tanner and eyes even brighter than he remembers. “Guys, this is Carlos,” he says. “My...friend.” When he actually makes eye contact, something in Carlos’s chest shifts, like a dormant volcano of feelings awakening and ready to erupt. “Hey,” he says, and just the softness of that one syllable alone could make Carlos cry tears of joy, he thinks.

“Hey,” he says back, because what else is there to say after practically a month of silence?

They continue staring at each other until someone bellows a laugh. “Sheesh, get a room,” he jokes, the other boys joining in. 

Immediately, EJ’s eyes snap away from Carlos and he rolls his eyes at his friends. “Very funny, guys,” he says with a glare, but Carlos thinks he can see a blush of embarrassment on his face. 

There’s a few moments where they stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to say, until Carlos remembers he’s holding precious cargo. “Oh,” he says, setting down EJ’s gift bag in the pile on the floor and holding out the other surprise he’d brought. “I brought _High School Musical_ : The Choosical! I don’t know if your friends want to play, but—”

“Oh. Sorry, I don’t think that’s really their scene, dude. No offense,” EJ laughs.

“Oh. Okay…,” he says, watching EJ walk away and start joking around with one of his friends. Something pangs in his chest, and any hope he had about their situation before feels a lot less confident than it previously had.

“Who wants to play some video games?” EJ asks, and a few of his friends whoop as they grab controllers and start slamming buttons aggressively. Even in all of his years of being tormented for being _different_ , Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever felt more left out. (Needless to say, he sits in the corner as he watches EJ talk to everyone but him, trying not to feel hurt even though that’s pretty much _all_ he’s felt since he went to camp.)

After a while, he decides to text Ashlyn and see where she is, starting to feel more awkward by the second. _Hey, are u coming?_ he types.

It doesn’t take long for the dots to appear on the screen. _Be there soon! Forgot EJ’s present and had to run back home, lol._

He sighs; he hopes it’s actually sooner rather than later. The longer he sits in the corner and watches them joke around and play video games, the more he starts to feel like an intruder and not an attendee. _Please hurry_! Carlos responds. _I’m starting to feel REALLY ignored :/_

 _Coming to the rescue! OMW!_ Ashlyn sends back immediately. He smiles at his phone, hoping that once Ashlyn arrives, things will be a little less strained and a little more normal between the three of them.

Once they get tired of playing video games, EJ’s friends sit around on the leather sectional in his basement. “Hey, EJ, why don’t you open your presents?” one of his friends asks loudly. 

He laughs and shrugs modestly, though Carlos happens to know from past experience that opening presents is one of his favorite things in the entire world. “Well, if you guys insist!” he says. 

“Hey,” Carlos whispers, grabbing EJ’s attention. “Shouldn’t we wait for Ashlyn?”

EJ laughs again, though it feels more mocking than anything else, and his stomach twists with unease. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Carlos,” he says. “So, whose present should I open first?”

Carlos watches as he opens his gifts, each one ranging from a new video game to some sort of athletic accessory. He starts to feel kind of self-conscious about his own present, but before he can worry too much about it, EJ is picking it up and tearing away the tissue paper. “That’s from me,” Carlos says. He doesn’t think his voice has sounded so meek since the first time they’d ever really talked, the realization unsettling him a lot more than he’d care to think about. 

EJ tears the object out of the package, pulling out a red, white, and black microphone with EJ’s name engraved along the side in cursive. “It’s a customized microphone,” Carlos says. “You know, for when you, me, and Ashlyn sing karaoke together.” A few of his friends laugh, and Carlos can’t help but wring his hands nervously in his lap.

At first, EJ doesn’t do anything, his face blank with surprise or something _else_ , he isn’t sure. It doesn’t take long for a smile to curl on his lips, and an ounce of hope swells in his chest—that is until he starts laughing along with them, and his stomach drops into oblivion. “Wow. Thanks a lot, Carlos,” he deadpans. Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever felt as miserable in his whole life as he does right then. 

Almost immediately, he can feel a flood of tears building behind his eyes, the pressure leaving an overwhelming ache that makes his head spin and his stomach sick. He excuses himself to the bathroom as they continue opening presents, closing the door and splashing his face with cold water. He’s tempted to call someone, but he’s already bothered Ashlyn enough as it is, and it’s not like he can explain the situation to his mom without feeling like a big crybaby; he decides to save _that_ lifeline for when he actually needs it. Besides, it’s not like they can do anything about what’s going on; the only one that could fix what’s going on with him and EJ is him and EJ. And since EJ seems to be more than preoccupied with being a jerk, he supposes that leaves it to _him_ to mend their relationship. Go figure.

 _You can do this_ , he says to himself in the mirror. All he needs is a little burst of confidence to get things out in the open, and everything should untangle itself from there—it has to. (Because Carlos can’t even _begin_ to imagine a scenario in which he and EJ aren’t friends, and he’s _definitely_ not going to start now.)

Carefully, Carlos pats his face dry and swallows hard, pushing down the lump in his throat long enough to get the words out. _Here goes nothing_ , Carlos thinks, much like the first time he’d gone to sit with them at lunch, except this leaves him feeling a little less nervous and a lot more terrified. 

Right as he exits the bathroom, he hears EJ’s group of friends ask if he wants to shoot hoops. “Oh, it’s _on_ ,” EJ says. “You guys go ahead, though. I’ll be out in a sec.”

They shrug, collectively stomping up the stairs, and Carlos can’t help but notice the way that the smile on EJ’s face falters. He wonders if this is one of EJ’s many facades, just one that’s managed to stick and take the form of someone he doesn’t even recognize. Considering the other possibilities, including the option that EJ has just outgrown Carlos and doesn’t want to be his friend anymore, this is probably the one that causes him the least amount of pain in a painful situation such as this one. 

After a moment, Carlos makes a point of clearing his throat, and immediately, EJ looks up, expression quickly morphing from confused to reproachful. “Oh. It’s you,” he says, digging his foot into the carpet.

“Yeah...me,” Carlos says, pushing back the stab of hurt. There’s a beat of silence between them, more awkward and tense than any they’d shared before, and it hurts a lot more than he’s willing to admit. After a moment, he finally manages to force the words out of his throat, the action a lot more work than he’d been expecting. “What’s been going on with you lately, EJ?” he asks.

EJ doesn’t meet his eyes, but Carlos can still see the look of unease on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Carlos crosses his arms, nausea and nerves overwhelming any bit of confidence he’d had to begin with. “I mean, ever since you came back from camp, it’s like...it’s like you don’t even want to be my friend anymore.” 

EJ rolls his eyes. “You’re just overthinking things, Carlos,” he scoffs. He tries to shove past him up the stairs, but Carlos grabs his wrist, fingers burning there. EJ glances down at where their skin meets, eyes lingering there before he snaps his wrist away and starts making his way towards the staircase.

“Am I?” he asks. His voice begins to shake, and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last before his lip starts to tremble. “Because all you seem to want to do is laugh at me anymore. And if I wanted people to humiliate me, I’d just talk to the other kids at school.”

EJ turns around, and Carlos isn’t sure what he’d expected, but he’d hoped _that_ would at least strike some realization into him. Instead, he stares at him coldly, almost like he’s not even there at all. “Listen, Carlos. This is what happens when people get older. They grow apart, all right? I wouldn’t have even invited you if it hadn’t been for Ashlyn.”

And _oh_. Again, he doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t _this._ Because even after everything, Carlos had never anticipated him to say things that he knew would crush him. He can already feel the tears burning in his eyes, threatening to slide down his face at any given moment. EJ continues, “I mean, really, how long did you expect it to last, anyway? Deep down, you’ve always just been that crying little kid on the playground.”

Carlos lifts his chin high, refusing to acknowledge the tears that are slipping down his cheeks and blurring his vision. “Except look who’s the bully now.”

Someone stomps down the steps at full force, ready to witness the ugly scene before them, and for once, Carlos doesn’t care. He doesn’t even bother looking up, fully prepared to trudge up the stairs with his board game in tow and his shattered heart at his feet without a second glance. “Sorry I’m late, we had to go back and get your present…hey, what’s wrong?” Ashlyn asks, reaching the bottom of the staircase right as Carlos starts to run up. He rubs at his face with his sleeve, tears and snot and all as he takes the steps as many as he can without tripping and losing even more of his dignity. 

He doesn’t stop moving until he reaches the curb in front of his house, letting himself plop down on the pavement as he sends an urgent text to his mom. He folds his arms as he waits for her to respond, rocking back and forth on the concrete while he pretends that his glasses aren’t completely fogging up his vision right now. And of course, he had to start out his friendship with EJ the same way he’d ended it—sitting on the ground and crying like a three-year-old. _Great, just_ great _,_ Carlos thinks, laughing humorlessly to himself. A part of him has always wondered why him and EJ were ever friends in the first place; maybe that’s because they aren’t supposed to be. 

Carlos’s phone dings, and he scrambles to read the notification from his mom. _On my way_. _Be there soon. <3 _

He sighs a huff of relief, but it’s short-lived once he remembers _why_ he’s out here in the first place. _I wouldn’t have even invited you if it hadn’t been for Ashlyn_.

He shakes his head as if it will somehow physically rid him of the memories; of course, with his luck, it doesn’t. He lays his head in his lap and sighs—how could he have been so _stupid_? He should’ve known the moment that he’d left for camp that things were over. Heck, probably since they’d met, he should’ve known that their friendship was doomed from the start. Because people like EJ Caswell just aren’t meant to be friends with people like Carlos, and maybe that’s something that EJ’s finally figured out for the both of them.

Carlos tosses his phone on the grass and pulls something out of his pocket: the jade green stone that Ashlyn had given him all those weeks ago. To help keep them connected, or whatever she’d said at the time. He thinks about chucking it in the street—and he probably would have—until he feels Ashlyn sit down next to him on the curb, face solemn and apologetic. “Hey,” she says softly. He doesn’t look at her, knowing that if he does, it’ll bring a fresh wave of tears, and he doesn’t want Ashlyn to see him like that, even _if_ she’s his only best friend now. “EJ told me. About what happened, I mean.”

Clearly, all it takes is a _mention_ of their fight, because Carlos starts to sniffle all over again. “He really didn’t want to invite me?”

This time, he glances over at her, a sad look all over her face, and that’s answer enough. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any _worse_. “Look, EJ’s just going through a tough time right now,” she says. “He’s moving into high school, he’s trying to find friends his own age...I mean, you know how it is.”

His glasses start to fog up again, but he doesn’t even care. He doesn’t think he cares about anything anymore. “Actually, Ashlyn, I don’t. If the roles were reversed, I _never_ would’ve done that to him. Neither would you.”

She sighs. “Yeah, I know,” she says, slumping over. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ashlyn look like all the fight’s gone out of her, and it’s _definitely_ not a comforting sight to witness. “EJ is just...EJ. Ever since girls started noticing him and he became Mr. Popular, all he cares about is preserving his image. Trust me, it’s nothing you did, Carlos. He’ll come around, I promise.”

“Listen, I know he’s your cousin and everything, but I have a really hard time believing that. He seems _pretty_ certain that he doesn’t want to be friends anymore,” Carlos says. His eyes ache from the tears, and part of him is worried that they’ll never stop. 

When his mom pulls up to the curb, Carlos doesn’t think he’s ever been so grateful in his life. “My mom’s here. I should go,” he says. Normally, he’d feel stupid for pointing out the obvious like that, but he’s just too _done_ with everything to care. Suddenly, he remembers the green crystal clenched in his fist and gives it one last look before pressing it into Ashlyn’s palm. “Here, you should have this. It clearly didn’t work for me, anyway,” he jokes, but it comes out flat and wobbly instead of the much-needed humor he was really aiming for.

Ashlyn frowns, face soft with worry. “Hey, I know things aren’t great with EJ, but...I’m always here for you, Carlos. Even if you guys stop being friends, it doesn’t mean that we have to.”

He nods, appreciating her words, but even looking at Ashlyn right then makes his heart wrench uncontrollably. “Thanks, Ashlyn,” he says. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he hopes that after everything, he doesn’t lose her, too; he’s not sure how he’d be able to handle a world without EJ _and_ Ashlyn. “I’ll see you later.” He stands up from the curb, dumping the board game in the back and strapping himself in the passenger’s seat, letting his mom squeeze his hand as he cries and stares out the window on the way home.


	2. part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, everyone! thanks for being so patient with this last update; i didn't expect it be the exact same length as chapter 1, but here we are! thank you to everyone that read this, gave kudos, bookmarked, commented, subscribed, etc. you guys are the ones that pushed me to get this second chapter out as soon as possible. also, this fic is somehow ranked third by kudos in the hsmtmts fandom, and that's INSANE, so again, thanks to everyone who gave this a read.
> 
> this chapter takes place from after ej's birthday party in chapter 1 to after the events of 1x10. hopefully you enjoy, please give kudos/comment, and stay tuned for chapter 3! :)
> 
> go ahead and follow my twitter @elosersunite for information/teasers for chapter 3 and for more elos content! :-)

After the party, seventh grade year somehow plummets even further for Carlos. Him and Ashlyn try staying friends, but once their classes get divided up and they don’t see each other as much because of EJ, they end up drifting apart almost completely. Unfortunately, the trend continues through junior high and into high school, something that Carlos finds not surprising at all. 

If he’d gotten bullied in elementary school, it’s _nothing_ compared to junior high; instead of being tripped on his way to the pencil sharpener, it’s getting knocked into his locker during passing periods and a million other things in the stereotypical bullied nerd experience. Go figure.

What _used_ to happen back in elementary school was Ashlyn would hold his hand while he tearfully told them what happened, and EJ would pass him a box of tissues and threaten to beat up the culprit in a ridiculous manner until Carlos was laughing instead of crying.

Now, however, he just pushes back the hurt and makes a retort under his breath, puts the imaginary Band-Aid on the wounds in his chest, and tries to move past it. Of course, he doesn’t think about what EJ would say in those cases, or what wild injury he’d joke about giving to whoever did it in the first place.

No. On those days, Carlos tries not to think about EJ at all.

* * *

Freshman year, things start to calm down for Carlos, at least in comparison to the last several years of his life. He ends up joining the Color Guard, and even though he’s still friendless for the most part, the other members sometimes compliment him for his dancing abilities, which, in his opinion, is sort of the same thing. 

Of course, he’s still a freshman, so people are automatically terrible to him, but this time, it’s (usually) not anything personal. Whoever said that high school is terrible had clearly skipped junior high, because in Carlos’s experience, his usual tormentors are at least _somewhat_ more mature, too focused on not failing their classes that messing with him just isn’t as much of a priority anymore. 

Naturally, however, Carlos also ends up getting stuck in a gym class with upperclassmen, which he thinks is just his luck. On his first day, it doesn’t take long for him to realize this small fact, and he’s not _too_ worried about it, thinking the juniors and seniors will just avoid him above all else, until he spots EJ Caswell among the crowd of tall jocks messing around on the bleachers. His stomach twists into knots, and even worse, something in his heart stutters, like an old car engine that’s struggling to start.

The coach blows his whistle, ordering them all to find a seat in the bleachers, and Carlos plops into the farthest one from EJ and his scary group of jock friends. “Settle down,” the coach barks. “Before you start tearing up my court, we’re going to do a quick roll call.” He clears his throat before saying, “Avery, Barnes, Carter, Caswell…” Carlos glances over at EJ, his buddies nudging him as if his last name is some sort of accomplishment he’s earned. The coach continues, “Martin, Perkins, Rodriguez, Travis…” 

Some of the laughing seems to stop, and when Carlos turns his head, he sees EJ already staring back at him. Something in his chest tightens, pulling so hard that it feels like his heart might snap in two. Carlos can’t decipher the expression on his face—whether it’s disgust, guilt, or faint realization—and honestly, he’s not sure he wants to know. Part of him wants to say something, anything, if it means the uncomfortable feeling in his chest will go away; instead, he purses his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose, and tears his gaze away from EJ and his vortex of hurt.

* * *

Since dancing apparently doesn’t count as a sport, Carlos spends his time playing volleyball with a group of sophomore girls that he’s pretty sure are just taking pity on him, but he doesn’t mind so much as long as it means he’s not sitting out on the sidelines. Besides, it’s better than getting distracted by EJ Caswell for an hour every day; at least this way, he can only _hear_ him and his stupidly charming laugh and not have to see it play out in front of him. 

That’s what he thinks, anyway, but of course, good things just never seem to stick for Carlos. 

On a random Thursday afternoon, their coach announces that all the gym’s basketballs are being inflated, leaving EJ and his jock groupees to roam the gym for the rest of the period. Carlos doesn’t think _too_ much of it, thinking there’s no way they’ll end up playing anywhere near him, but of course, EJ and one of his other friends decide to play _volleyball_ of all sports, leaving Carlos with his mouth hanging half-open in horror.

Just when he thinks things can’t get any worse, EJ and his jock friend end up being team captains, which Carlos thinks is just his luck. He stands in the corner of the court and pretends to fix his shoelaces as they choose teams; it’s not like he’s actually going to get picked anytime soon (he’s never been _that_ good when it comes to sports), so he might as well _try_ to act like he has a semblance of dignity.

It’s halfway through picking teams when Carlos feels someone nudge him in the side, and he glances up to see one of the girls that’s usually on his team standing there, Mia. “Hey, weren’t you paying attention? You got picked,” she says.

He stands up, frowning. “Really? By _who_?” 

“EJ Caswell,” she says, and something in Carlos’s chest stops. “Do you know who he is? He’s, like, the most popular guy in his class. I wonder why he picked you.”

Carlos glances up to see EJ joking around with a girl on his team, his heart stinging with annoyance and leftover hurt. “Believe me, I’m wondering the exact same thing,” he says.

Slowly, he makes his way over to the line, accidentally making eye contact with EJ as he does so, and immediately, he forces himself to look away. Just because EJ picked him to be on his volleyball team does _not_ mean that he feels bad about anything between them, and he’s _not_ going to let himself believe otherwise, even if it leaves an aching hole to form in his chest. 

It’s not long before they’re actually playing, their team managing to get ahead by a few points, which Carlos knows is _definitely_ not due to his own talents. Once it’s his turn to serve the ball, he thinks he drops it twice in the process before _actually_ smacking it, only for it to go flying right into the net. A couple people on his team groan, including EJ, and if he didn’t already feel low before, he _definitely_ does now. 

A part of him is tempted to fake twisting his ankle when he feels someone come stand next to him, and Carlos looks up to see EJ Caswell towering over him, his eyes even greener than he remembers. “Hey, uh...you need some help?” he asks, even though it feels more like a statement than a question.

Carlos doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t _want_ to respond, but he can feel everyone from both teams watching them, waiting to continue the game, so he finally says, “Um, I guess...”

EJ shows him a better way to serve the ball as Carlos tries his best to pay attention, though it proves to be more than difficult when _EJ’s_ the one teaching him. All Carlos can think about is that day at his birthday party a few years ago, how EJ had essentially stomped on what was left of their friendship and treated it like it meant nothing, probably because at that point, it had. His chest hurts from the memories, and _God_ , he wants to be anywhere else but here, with EJ Caswell in a smelly gym as he tries to show him how to serve a volleyball.

“You got it?” EJ asks after he’s done demonstrating, and Carlos nods, refusing to make eye contact. “Okay, now you try.”

Carlos takes the ball, channeling all his anger about EJ, about _everything_ , as he throws it up in the air and smacks it. The ball flies straight over the net, with a girl on the other team trying and failing to bounce it back over. “Hey, nice job, Car—I mean...good serve,” EJ says, and even though he’d earned his team the point, Carlos feels anything but a sense of accomplishment.

By the time the game ends, Carlos’s team is in the lead by several points, and as the rest of his teammates high-five each other for their win, Carlos runs to the boys’ locker room and locks himself in a stall. He forces himself to take deep breaths as a few angry tears begin to fall, and honestly, he can’t even fault himself for his rampant emotions. After all, he’s always just been that crying little kid on the playground, just like EJ had said.

* * *

Not only does it begin with him captaining the Color Guard, but sophomore year also leads to Carlos choreographing East High’s production of _High School Musical_ , which is something that he couldn’t be happier about. It gives him a sense of purpose and meaning that he’s not sure he’s ever had ownership of before, at least not _knowingly_ , and the reminder gives him a little thrill each time he remembers it. This year is going to be _different_ somehow, he just knows it. 

Or that’s how he’s feeling, anyway, up until it’s time for the auditions, and lo and behold, EJ Caswell’s standing on the stage with charming smiles and flirtatious winks that make Carlos’s head spin with a whirlpool of confusion.

When Miss Jenn turns to him and asks, “Okay, what do I need to know?” he thinks there’s so much he could tell her about EJ Caswell. He could tell her that his favorite TV show is _Glee_ , and that he puts on a popular front but his best friend is really his cousin, and that he used to be a gentle kid with kind green eyes and a mouthful of braces.

Instead, he says that he has the most Instagram followers, wakes up looking like that, and doesn’t know he exists.

* * *

With the incoming flood of rehearsals also brings with it an unbearable amount of drama; unsurprisingly, of course, the majority of their problems stem from issues with the casting, or so he suspects, anyway. He wouldn’t exactly say he’s in the loop, but it’s obvious that _something_ is going on with some of the leads; more specifically, the infamous wonderstudies that happen to be EJ and Gina. 

He convinces himself that this is the reason he initiates his first conversation with EJ Caswell since their fall-out a few years before. It’s after one of their first rehearsals ends that he finds EJ alone and leaning against a concrete wall, cross-legged on the floor and face sour with an emotion that definitely isn't a happy one. Normally, he wouldn’t bother getting involved, the effort being worth more than whatever outcome he’d end up with, but this time, he finds his feet involuntarily carrying him over to investigate. 

When he finally reaches his destination (of course, not without the several seconds of terror lodging a lump of fear in his throat), EJ glances up, eyes hard with annoyance and softening only slightly to mask his confusion for the situation before him. Carlos attempts to clear his throat, but the fear in his veins still feels like it’s closing in on all of his impulses that dare to do anything but stand there frozen in EJ Caswell’s presence. “Hey,” he eventually manages to get out, and even the one syllable takes an unexpected amount of vigor. “Are...you okay?”

EJ’s gaze falters to his lap, and Carlos isn’t sure that he’s ever seen a more pathetic nod. “Of course I am,” he says, but it comes out one-tone and forceful. “Why do you ask?”

Carlos shrugs; he feels like he should sit down for this conversation, but something in his brain absolutely refuses to. He will _not_ sit down next to EJ Caswell of all people; asking him if he’s okay is one thing, but sitting down to comfort him is another that will most certainly ignite something that he’s not sure he’ll be able to push back down again. “I don’t know. You just seem...how do I put this...like you’re contemplating how great it’d be if an asteroid just came crashing into the school right about now?

His lips tilt up just the slightest bit, and even though it’s more of a grimace than a smile, it still feels like a win to Carlos. And then he reprimands himself for caring about whether EJ’s happy or not—the only reason he’d come over here at all was to possibly resolve some of the drama that was going on for the sake of the show, and that’s it. “Yeah…,” he says. He looks up again, eyes full of anguish, and something in his chest twitches just a little. “Carlos, have you ever done something you regretted?”

For a split second—here and then gone—Carlos can’t help but wonder if this is EJ’s offhand way of apologizing for everything between them. But then he forces himself back to their disappointing reality (if anything, it probably has something to do with Nini’s missing phone rather than his years-old issues with Carlos) and almost automatically, he says, “No, but I have a feeling you have.”

EJ flashes him a hurt look, one that holds a lot more pain than his comment really warranted, and in one quick motion, he’s standing up and slinging his backpack across one shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Carlos.” 

He watches as EJ walks away, feeling a pang of remorse. _Great_ , he thinks _, now_ I’m _the one standing all alone_. But that’s not the only reason he’s upset—deep down, he knows the real reason he’d come over here is because despite everything between them, he still has a soft spot for EJ, something he’s desperately tried to fight for the past few years. 

And the smallest part of him wishes he’d answered yes to EJ’s question, because now, he regrets ever being mean to him in the first place.

* * *

Homecoming at East High is always greeted with more fanfare than Carlos has ever seen for a school function, not that he would know much about the subject. As much as he loves dancing, he’s never even been to a school dance, much less participated in the infamous homecoming festivities. It’s not like any guys (or girls, for that matter) are begging to go with him, and even _he_ has enough dignity to not go without a date. Thus the dilemma to attend homecoming has never even been too much of an issue for Carlos.

That is until he becomes friends with Seb, and suddenly, homecoming is all he can think about. Seb’s nice, and sweet, and funny, and one of the few people he’s ever danced with that’s been able to keep up. (He also knows for a fact that he’s gay, too, which definitely increases his interest now that he knows he won’t be wasting his energy on a straight guy for the second time in his life.) 

So when the opportunity arises, Carlos musters up all of his courage and asks Seb if he wants to go to homecoming. If it were anyone else, he thinks he’d be a lot more nervous in this situation, but something about Seb just puts his mind more at ease, almost as if he’s not asking his crush out at all.

And by some miracle, he actually agrees to it, leaving Carlos to daydream about the night ahead of him until the actual dance itself starts. Unfortunately, his fantasy of their epic night at homecoming had _not_ anticipated him being late, leaving him to mope at one of the festively-colored tables set up around the gym. 

“Hey,” a voice says, and Carlos looks up, surprised to see Ashlyn standing in front of him, though he probably shouldn’t be. Even though they drifted apart after the EJ incident, they still talk on occasion and have always been more than friendly with each other. “Are you okay? You look kind of…,” she trails off, waving her arms around his face as if _that_ will explain what she means.

“What? Bummed out? Totally devastated? Like I don’t want to be here?” Carlos asks, chin resting in his palms. “Because all of those would be correct.”

She sits down in the empty chair next to him (to be fair, _all_ of the chairs are empty) and gives him that concerned look of hers. To say it’s one of the many times he’s seen it would be a bit of an understatement; Ashlyn is nothing if not a supportive friend, or at least he knows she used to be. “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me,” she says. She plores at him with worried eyes, and he knows that there’s a second part to that sentence that’s more implied than anything else. _You know you can tell me, even if we’re not best friends anymore_. 

He pushes aside his cup of punch and sighs; it’s not like he has anything better to do than confide his sorrows in one of his former best friends. “Well, I asked Seb to homecoming earlier, and I _thought_ he was coming, but…,” he shrugs half-heartedly. “I guess he changed his mind after all.”

“Hey,” she says, putting her hand on Carlos’s. “He could still be coming! The dance has barely even started, you know,” she reminds him. “How about I hang out here with you until he shows up, okay?” 

Carlos nods, feeling reassured by the smile lighting up on her face, and _wow_ , he really misses Ashlyn. “Okay,” he agrees. “I promise I’ll try not to bore you _too_ much.”

Ashlyn rolls her eyes. “Nonsense, Carlos. I’m _pretty_ sure you’re the least boring person I know,” she says, and the compliment makes him smile; wallowing is practically impossible whenever Ashlyn’s around, at least in Carlos’s experience. “Now, how about we take some selfies to remember this night in a good way?”

Together, they take turns posing in front of Ashlyn’s phone, and Carlos is feeling significantly better by the time Big Red and Ricky sit down with them. Maybe Ashlyn’s right; he’s probably just taking a long time to get ready or something. _Just_ because he’s running late doesn’t automatically have to mean that he’s been stood up. 

Carlos is feeling pretty hopeful about salvaging his evening, up until he hears Gina ask if the seats next to him are taken, and he glances up to see EJ hanging on her arm, face pinched with discomfort and like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Unfortunately, he’s pretty sure that saying no is not an option, at least not a pleasant one, so he forces a smile and says nothing, internally breathing a sigh of relief when EJ sits next to Ricky instead of him. 

Another half an hour passes, and when Seb still hasn’t shown up, he starts to give up all the hope that he’d regained for the evening. Still, Ashlyn tries to comfort him, but this time, he just brushes it off, too crestfallen about the turn of events that he can’t even bother to get his hopes up for a second time. (Plus hearing EJ and Gina call each other _babe_ doesn’t do much to help matters; if anything, it makes his sulking take a nose-dive into brooding.)

Which is exactly why he leaves the table for another cup of punch; the idea of seeing Gina and EJ laughing and smiling at each other makes Carlos’s dinner want to make a reappearance. It’s not like EJ dating other girls is new, but the fact that it’s _Gina_ of all people makes it a billion times worse considering he actually likes her. 

He shakes his head to dismiss the thoughts. The only thing he should be upset about is _Seb_ ; he shouldn’t still be worrying about EJ after _everything_ , after all this time. So he decides he’s not going to. Instead, he takes Mr. Mazzara’s advice and dances in the middle of the gym by himself; sure, maybe EJ’s nothing more than a distant memory now, and Seb’s a dream that didn’t even get off the ground, but dancing is something he’s always had and always will. 

So he goes back to that day on the playground, before the bullies had shown up, before EJ, before Seb, before all of it. The setting might be a gym rather than a playground, and twinkling bulbs instead of the sunlight shining through the trees, but he’s still wishing for better days and realized dreams just the same.

* * *

He’s sitting down at a table with Ashlyn, still trying to dry off the remnants of fruit punch soaking his hair and jacket, when he notices him: Carlos, dancing alone in the middle of the floor and about as lonely as EJ had ever seen him. Well, except maybe that day on the playground…

The memory leaves his eyebrows furrowing and a pit of something that’s definitely _not_ guilt stirring in his stomach when it most certainly shouldn’t be; he’s past those days of lip-synching _Glee_ covers and having dance-offs with Carlos in Ashlyn’s basement (not that he ever _won_ , but still.) 

_Whatever_ , he thinks. The time he’d spent being friends with Carlos is long gone, and it’s not like he exactly wants it back. But that still doesn’t stop him from leaning over to Ashlyn and grimacing as he says, “I actually kind of feel bad for the guy.”

She gives him a glance, one that says, _Why don’t we do something about it?_ before she gets up and joins him on the dance floor. Carlos’s face instantly lights up at having Ashlyn out there with him, and not that EJ actually wants to do the same—but even if he _did_ —it’s not like Carlos would want him there, anyway. Besides, he’s much too busy feeling sorry for himself and his ruined hair to do anything about it, so instead, he sits there and watches.

Not before long, everyone on the dance floor joins in (EJ’s not entirely convinced that this isn’t a planned flash mob of some sort) where pretty much everyone’s out there with Carlos except for him. And then he thinks his life must have taken a _really_ bad turn if he’s jealous of _Carlos_ of all people, who’s about as unpopular as they come. 

_Come on, EJ, snap out of it_ , he tells himself. _You’re co-captain of the water polo team. You’re senior class treasurer. You’re one of if not_ the _most popular guy in your class. You’re_ —

Sitting alone in a roomful of people that all seem to be having a _way_ better time than him.

He’s not sure where, exactly, it all went wrong. Maybe it’s when he enlisted Gina’s help in getting the part of Troy, or when he slipped Emily Pratt that bad deviled egg, or even at his birthday party freshman year when he said all those unforgivable things to Carlos. 

It wasn’t like he’d _planned_ on doing that, exactly. Sure, he’d spent the whole summer pushing him away, the pressure to be popular consuming anything else he cared about and spitting it out like it was nothing, but it wasn’t until Carlos had given him his present that everything really went awry.

The worst part is that he’d actually really liked that gift. Well, up until his friends had made fun of it, anyway, and then all he could see was a chance to win a popularity contest he hadn’t known he was participating in until that moment. 

And of course they’d momentarily turned on him once Carlos ran off to the bathroom and he’d told them to lay off. _“What?”_ one of them had joked. _“Is he your boyfriend?”_

Something about the memory makes his whole body feel like it’s shutting down, a cage of ice wrapping around his heart and squeezing the existence right out of him.

If only he’d taken that rock to camp with him like he’d promised Ashlyn in the first place, then maybe he wouldn’t be sitting alone on the sidelines, watching his ex-best friend be twirled around the dance floor while he tries to recover from the cup of punch currently dampening his ego. 

And for once, EJ’s not sure what the point of playing to win is if all he seems to be doing is lose.

 _Whatever,_ he tells himself not for the first time tonight. What’s done is done, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

As he stands up to leave, he notices Seb and Carlos slow dancing together, looking like they’re lost in their own little world, and again, a vice seems to anchor itself to his chest until it aches. 

_Besides_ , he tells himself, _Carlos seems much happier without me, anyway._

* * *

The Monday after homecoming leads to a wild pursuit of attempting to save Miss Jenn’s job, which somehow manages to happen in Big Red’s basement of all places. The impromptu meeting doesn’t start out that way, however, most of the cast and crew still caught up in their earlier drama from rehearsal, and honestly, Carlos can’t really blame them. He’s upset about the entire day, too, especially because Miss Jenn isn’t even bothering to fight for her job, for _them_ , so if everyone’s feeling a little worse than usual, at least he’s not alone.

Which he supposes is the reason that when Ashlyn suggests someone say something to alleviate the tension, Carlos says, “Fine. I’ll say something. I’m mad at Miss Jenn.”

“Why?” Gina scoffs. “Because she’s got a couple skeletons in her closet?”

He shakes his head; that’s _definitely_ not the reason, because it’s not like he exactly has room to talk in that particular department. “No, because she’s giving up,” he counters. “She was the first teacher to not see me as a punchline. And now she’s not even a real teacher?”

Naturally, everyone starts arguing again, leaving Natalie Bagley to ask, “So, why are we all here, then?”

“Yeah, good question. This is a waste of time,” EJ says, because of _course_ he would; EJ’s never had to worry about having friends, about keeping the one thing you know you’re good at, because for him, that’s everyone and everything.

“Honestly?” Carlos asks. “Because she gave me a shot. And it’s been a _long_ time since someone gave me a shot.”

By some miracle, they’re all able to agree on one thing: they need to at least _try_ to save Miss Jenn’s job, in whatever way that is. It takes a while, especially since they have to write a song, create the choreo, _and_ somehow manage to record a beat all in the span of a single night, but once they split into teams, things start to get done, and for the first time the whole afternoon, Carlos is starting to feel hopeful again.

* * *

It’s not long before Carlos is on his third hour of teaching the rest of the cast the choreography, and if he thought that blindfolding them while dancing with basketballs was difficult, it’s nothing compared to choreographing and teaching an entire number to a group of teenagers in a single night.

And it _especially_ doesn’t help that things are still a little tense between the cast despite the pep talk they’d all had at the beginning of this endeavor. Ricky and Nini can barely look at each other, Big Red can’t stop bumping into everyone during the dance, and Carlos is _pretty_ sure that Natalie Bagley has it out for Ashlyn.

Not to mention EJ and the sour attitude he’s maintained ever since the start of rehearsal. Carlos thinks this is what frustrates him the most, not only because it’s _EJ_ of all people, but because he personally came after Carlos. He may not have a lot of dignity, but he refuses to tolerate people attacking him for trying his best, especially in such a difficult situation as this one.

It’s around midnight when they finally take a break, much to Carlos’s relief. Most everyone else is downstairs enjoying the snacks Big Red was able to dig out of a kitchen cabinet while Carlos pours himself a thermos of coffee from the pot sitting on the counter. “Hey,” a voice says from behind him, and just his luck, EJ’s the one standing there, face innocent and charming as always. “I’ll take whatever’s left when you’re done with that.”

He’s not sure what exactly sets him off—maybe it’s the casual way he says it, like he hasn’t been a total jerk the entire afternoon, or the fact that he’s always pretending like they’re strangers when they’re anything but. He doesn’t know which one it is, and honestly, he doesn’t care—all he knows is that one second, the coffee pot is half-full and steaming in his hands, and the next, it’s being poured down the drain while he watches the shock absorb on EJ’s face. “Sorry, all gone,” Carlos says. “Guess you’ll have to make another pot yourself.”

Carlos starts to walk away when EJ catches him by the wrist, spinning him around and catching him by surprise. “Hey, what’s your problem, Carlos?”

He snatches his hand away, pushing down the nerves in his stomach; he’s not going to hesitate now, not when he’s this close to actually standing up for himself. “I don’t know, EJ, why don’t you tell me?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, and the sight drags him back to that day in EJ’s basement against his will. “Well, clearly, I don’t know, so why don’t _you_ tell _me_?” he says.

Carlos shrugs. “Hm...I _don’t_ think I will. It might actually be good that not everything is handed to you on a silver platter for once.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” EJ calls out after him, but Carlos doesn’t answer, already storming down the steps.

Of course, it’s when he’s halfway down the stairs that he realizes he doesn’t have his thermos, and as much as he just wants to leave it behind, he knows there’s _no_ way he’s going to make it through the rest of the night without it. 

He walks back up and sees EJ’s annoyed expression still on display, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Carlos refuses to make eye contact as he moves behind him and grabs the cup. “I forgot this,” he says, pulling it off the counter and speeding back down the steps. 

So much for keeping his dignity intact for once, but whatever. EJ needed to be put in his place, and Carlos is glad that he’s finally the one that was able to do so, even if it _does_ give him a feeling reminiscent of a sinking hole swallowing his chest.

* * *

He’s back in the rehearsal room, the scene set exactly like before when he’d tried explaining forest of boys to everyone. Except this time when everyone protests the idea, Carlos says, “Why don’t I show you how it’s done?” and “When There Was Me and You” starts playing out of nowhere.

“It’s funny when you find yourself, looking from the outside. I’m standing here, but all I want is to be over there,” he sings. When he looks around again, everyone’s disappeared, the only ones left in the room being a bunch of boys frozen in various places. Without questioning it, Carlos begins wandering through the forest of boys as he continues. “Why did I let myself believe that miracles could happen? ‘Cause now I have to pretend that I don’t really care.”

He passes by Rico, Caden, and Ricky before he reaches Seb. _This must be my Troy_ , he thinks to himself. “I thought you were my fairytale, my dream when I’m not sleeping. A wish upon a star, that’s coming true.”

Carlos frowns when he sees that there’s one more boy standing in front of Seb, but he keeps moving. “But everybody else could tell that I confused my feelings with the truth,” he sings, pausing in front of the final boy. It takes his dream self a minute to place him before realizing who it is—it’s EJ, frozen with that charming smile plastered on his face, except it’s a much younger version of him. One with a mouthful of braces and kind green eyes that could melt any heart they reached.

Mesmerized, Carlos sings the last line, more of a whisper than it is anything else. “When there was me and you.”

* * *

Gasping, Carlos wakes up from his dream (more like a nightmare, in his opinion), hands clutching at his chest. By some miracle, everyone still seems to be asleep—if they hadn’t been, Carlos doesn’t know _what_ explanation he would’ve given them if they’d asked about his dream. Slowly, he untangles himself from Seb, making his way over to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. 

Except when he pushes open the door, he realizes it’s already being occupied when he catches EJ mid-spin in front of the mirror. When EJ notices him, he stops and turns around (Carlos isn’t sure if his face is red from dancing or embarrassment), a scowl on his face. “What do you want, Carlos?” he asks. “Here to pour the soap down the drain before I can wash my hands?” he asks.

He shakes his head, face flushing with embarrassment of his own. “First of all, no, that’s gross. I’m _all_ for cleanliness. Second of all, I just came to splash my face with cold water.”

“Oh,” EJ says, and he steps aside as Carlos turns on the sink. “You know, why don’t I help you with that?” 

He frowns. “How would you—” he starts, but before he can get the words out, EJ’s hand is flying under the faucet and splashing water all over Carlos’s face. 

Carlos blinks, removing his glasses to wipe them clean before putting them back on to see EJ’s smug expression staring right back at him. “Did you just do what I think you just did?” he asks. He doesn’t know how to feel—either angry, shocked, or a mix of both, he’s not entirely sure.

EJ’s shoulders lift up in an innocent manner, though the smirk on his lips does nothing to help his case. “I don’t know, Carlos, you tell me,” he says. 

Maybe he wasn’t sure how to feel about this whole thing before, but now, he _definitely_ knows that this is war. “Fine,” Carlos says. “Let me tell you what I think. I think,” he pauses, running his hand under the faucet and hurling a handful of water at his head, “you need to wipe that smug look off your face.”

He gasps, hands immediately flying to his head. “Not my hair!” he exclaims. “Oh, it is _so_ on.” 

Thus begins their fight for the sink, EJ fully spraying him with the faucet at any given chance while Carlos ducks away and splashes him whenever he has an opportunity to avoid getting blasted in the face. They’re both so preoccupied with trying to get back at each other that Carlos doesn’t even notice the gaping puddle spread out in the middle of the floor until it’s too late, flying backwards and landing with his back soaking wet and his head throbbing. _Ouch_ , he thinks, _maybe that last move_ wasn’t _such a good idea_.

Almost immediately, EJ shuts off the sink and hovers over him, face marred with shock and a hint of concern that makes his stomach do somersaults. “Carlos! Are...you okay?” he asks.

He nods like this is a completely normal situation for him, like EJ Caswell leaning inches away from his face is a usual occurrence and not at all something that makes his throat constrict with a lack of oxygen. “I’m fine,” he says, eyes looking everywhere but at him. “Where are my glasses?”

EJ glances around before seeming to spot them amidst the mess of floor space around them, and Carlos follows his line of sight to somewhere behind the toilet. “Ugh. That _cannot_ be sanitary,” he says, sitting up.

He snorts, an amused puff of breath through his nostrils that is certainly more welcome than his typical scoffs. “Probably not,” he says. He uses his shirt to wipe them clean, and something about the action makes Carlos’s chest ache when it most certainly should _not_ ; he’s not going to let any stupid lingering feelings for EJ get in the way of the fact that he’s mad at him, even if his argument doesn’t sound all that convincing. 

He gives his glasses a once-over, squinting at them from different angles before seemingly deciding that they’re clean. Carlos expects him to just hand them back, fingers already held out to receive them, but instead, EJ slides them back onto Carlos’s face, adjusting them until they sit on the bridge of his nose. “See? Good as new,” he says, and Carlos _really_ isn’t prepared for the flood of emotions that overwhelm him when they make eye contact: concern mixed with a softness that Carlos hasn’t seen from EJ since that night before he’d left for camp, and already, he can feel his anger becoming a losing battle to their past.

“Thanks…,” Carlos says. He swallows hard, hoping _that_ will somehow push down the vessel of emotion lodged in his throat. 

“You’re sure you’re okay, right?” EJ asks. “Because I’m pretty sure our choreographer getting a head injury a few weeks before opening night _isn’t_ exactly ideal.”

Carlos rolls his eyes and pretends to think for a moment. “Well, I guess there _is_ one thing.”

EJ frowns. “Really? What is it? Oh, God, _please_ don’t tell me you have a concussion—”

He grabs his sleeve, yanking him down until he’s lying on the floor and just as drenched as Carlos. “There. _That_ should do it,” he grins.

“You know, I want to be mad, but a part of me feels like I deserve this,” EJ says. They both make eye contact, shaking with laughter at their current predicament, and something in Carlos’s chest physically _aches_.

They’re still staring at each other until EJ clears his throat, eyes falling to the floor as he glances away. “Anyway, we should _probably_ get this water off the floor. And hope that we didn’t wake everyone up,” Carlos adds. 

EJ nods, grunting as he stands up. “All right, fine. You find a towel, and I’ll go see if the cast is waiting outside the door with torches and pitchforks.” 

Carlos rolls his eyes as he pulls himself to his feet. “Wow, way to leave the injured person the easy job,” he mutters as EJ leaves the room.

He rummages through a cabinet before finding a fluffy white towel—perfect for cleaning up a disgusting, wet bathroom floor—and begins to mop up the water right as EJ returns from Big Red’s room/basement, consequently bumping into him with the door. “ _Ouch_ ,” Carlos exclaims, throwing him a glare.

“Oops,” EJ says. “You seriously can’t catch a break, can you?” 

He rolls his eyes, scrubbing at the puddle on the floor. “I wonder whose fault _that_ is.”

“Hey, you started it with the coffee pot! How was I supposed to know that retaliating would lead to this?” EJ asks, and Carlos snorts. “Hey...what was that whole thing about, anyway?”

“Oh,” he says, glancing up; Carlos had practically forgotten about it. “I guess it’s because...I don’t know. I didn’t like what you said. About me keeping secrets from the cast or whatever. And for saying that this whole thing was a waste of time.” The furrowed expression on his face morphs into realization, and really, that’s probably all he can expect from EJ—the understanding that he actually did something wrong. “I mean, I think it goes without saying that I take my job as choreographer pretty seriously, so...yeah. Sorry for being petty, I guess.”

He expects him to just brush it off and move on with his life, as per the EJ Caswell way, but is surprised when EJ kneels down in front of him and gently pulls the towel out of reach. “Hey, I was stupid for saying all of that. I guess I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, and I...probably shouldn’t have.” 

Carlos half-smiles; it’s closer to an apology than what he’d been expecting, so he supposes it might as well be the real thing. “Thanks,” he says. “And now it’s _your_ turn to mop!”

EJ grimaces. “Yeah, I probably deserve that, too.” 

Carlos wipes down the sink with his sleeve before plopping himself on the counter; little did he know that coming in here to wash his face would lead to _this_. And then he remembers _why_ he wanted to do so in the first place, and the reminder of his dream leaves all of his nerves standing on end. 

Once all the water on the floor gets completely cleaned up (no thanks to EJ, of course; Carlos thinks he has to point out five different spots he missed before it gets finished), Carlos realizes that he never asked EJ what he’d been doing before he’d walked in on him. He’s almost positive that he wasn’t using the bathroom considering he was spinning in front of the mirror, which makes him all the more curious. “Hey, EJ?” Carlos asks. “What were you doing in here before, anyway?”

EJ gives him a confused look as he lays the towel to dry over the side of the bathtub. “Huh?”

“When I walked in on you,” he explains, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you weren’t going to the bathroom since you were twirling in front of the mirror. What were you doing?”

“Honestly?” he sighs, sitting on top of the toilet seat, and Carlos nods. “I was practicing the choreography you taught everyone.”

“Oh,” Carlos frowns. Even though it makes perfect sense, he’d never expected _EJ_ of all people to need extra help with his dancing. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Carlos, I think you and I both know that I’m kind of prideful.” He says it like it’s a joke, but Carlos is pretty sure that jokes aren’t supposed to be one-hundred percent truth. “Anyway, everyone kind of expects me to be perfect all the time, so it’s kind of hard for me to...not be.”

That’s definitely not a secret, at least not to Carlos, but the way he tells him, it feels like he’s being confided in, and he won’t begrudge EJ of that (or himself, for that matter.) “The only reason everyone expects you to be perfect is because you put that pressure on yourself,” Carlos points out. “Nobody’s perfect. If you just let yourself make mistakes and owned up to them, then you’d have nothing to worry about.”

It feels like they’re talking about more than EJ letting himself be bad at dancing, but if they are, EJ gives no indication of it, instead saying, “Huh. I guess you’re right. Thanks, Carlos.”

He dismisses the thoughts; now is not the time to get caught up in his past with EJ (not that there ever is a _good_ time, but his point remains.) "Here, let me show you it again and maybe we can fix whatever you're having trouble with,” he says.

“Really?” EJ asks, and Carlos doesn’t know why he’s shocked. Besides the fact that it’s his job, they’re not exactly _feuding_ anymore, at least not at this very moment. “That’d be kind of great, actually.”

EJ drills what parts of the routine he already knows while Carlos stands beside him and shows him what he’s doing wrong, all in Big Red’s cramped bathroom at four in the morning. It doesn’t take long before EJ gets frustrated, throwing his head back and leaning against the sink. “I’m never going to get it. I’m just...too tired and annoyed to get this down.”

Carlos wants to reassure him that he _can_ do it, but knows that in the process, he might be risking all of his self-control to push away any lingering feelings for EJ, so he doesn’t. “Listen, you’ve got at least part of it down. Why don’t you just dance what you can and support us from the sidelines for the rest?” 

“Seriously?” EJ laughs, the sound flooded with relief, and for once, hearing it doesn’t want to make Carlos spiral into oblivion. “Thanks, Carlos.”

“No problem,” he smiles. Again, he finds himself making eye contact with EJ before they both glance away. “We should probably try to get some sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead of us,” he jokes weakly.

“Yeah, you’re right,” EJ says. They both move to exit the bathroom at the same time, both of them awkwardly caught in the doorway before EJ waves him ahead. 

Respectively, they take their spots in Big Red’s basement, EJ collapsing in an empty armchair across the room while Carlos slumps onto the couch space next to Seb. As he tries to get comfortable, Seb stirs awake, eyes fluttering open and smile sleepy. “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, then frowns. “And why are you wet?”

EJ stifles a sound from across the room, and Carlos shoots him a glance from out of the corner of his eye. “It’s nothing, honey. Just a mishap with the sink. Go back to sleep,” he whispers. He ignores the way that he makes eye contact with EJ as he gets settled in, choosing to close his eyes as if _that_ will somehow block out the raw, itchy feeling crawling all over him.

As he tries to fall asleep, Carlos decides not to let himself get his hopes up about... _whatever_ it is that happened between him and EJ tonight. It’s not like they’re suddenly friends again just because they splashed each other with some sink water and shared a couple apologies. The past hour is only something that could’ve happened because it’s four in the morning, and because they’re all under intense pressure, and they both happened to run into each other in the bathroom at the same time—it’s _not_ because of anything else (no matter what he wishes were true.) And with that final note, he lets himself fall asleep on Seb’s shoulder, pushing any thoughts about EJ out of his mind for the remainder of the night.

* * *

It’s around five in the morning after their late night full of choreography, and yet EJ still can’t fall asleep. He wonders if it’s just the adrenaline of their situation pumping through his veins and keeping him awake, but some part of him tells him that’s not true (or at least not the _whole_ truth, anyway.) He knows at least some of it is due to Carlos, oddly enough (which he guesses makes sense considering his whole life has been out of proportions lately.) And even though half of the night was them arguing, whether with barb-wire insults or fistfuls of sink water, the whole thing was...unexpectedly nice. Time with Carlos usually is, he supposes, even when he’s bossing them around at rehearsals and telling them to take five, even when EJ’s annoyed with him, it makes him feel...something. 

He guesses that’s not so surprising either; things had always been like that between them. Maybe not as much these past few years (something that EJ has to keep reminding himself is _his_ fault), but it’s still present, with EJ putting up one mask after another and Carlos being the one to get through to him.

EJ thinks this is the other reason that he stopped being friends with Carlos all those years ago; he was always too aware, too quick to figure out what parts of him were real and what was just for show. It always had a way of making him feel open and vulnerable, and a part of EJ thinks he was afraid of what Carlos would reveal if he just digged deep enough, maybe because EJ wasn’t so sure that he wanted to find out either.

He shakes his head as if that will make the thoughts magically disappear from his head, not that it’s ever worked in the past. Even if they’re not his main focus, they’re still there, lurking in the back of his head and haunting him in his dreams, which he guesses is a side effect of a guilty conscience.

EJ should be an expert on _that_ particular subject, after all, not that he’d know much about _clearing_ one. Besides confessing to Nini, anyway, and he guesses that worked out well enough for him given...well, everything. But he wouldn’t even know where to _begin_ with apologizing to Carlos; how does someone undo several years of hurt and regret? They don’t, at least not solely with the words _I’m sorry_.

He decides to push the thoughts aside for now; that’s a problem for another sleepless night, one where he can adequately come up with a way to try and fix things between them (that is if his sudden streak of morality continues its course.) And with that, he closes his eyes and rolls to his side, hoping that somehow, he’ll be able to get some rest from his ever-restless thoughts.

* * *

This year’s Thanksgiving gives an opportunity for the Drama Club to get together and host a party at Ashlyn’s, which is something that Carlos couldn’t be more excited about (especially since it was half his idea.) He’s sifting through his closet when he gets the FaceTime request from Seb, answering as he digs through and finds the leather jacket he’s been wanting to wear. “Hey, Seb. You look _fantastic_ ,” he smiles, taking notice of his perfectly styled hair and pink dress shirt. 

“You don’t look too shabby yourself,” Seb laughs. “Anyway, I guess I sort of have a question for you?”

“Oh?” Carlos says. “What is it?” 

“It was just to see if there’s anything we’re supposed to bring,” he explains. 

“Like what?” Carlos frowns. As far as he knows food-wise, it’s just a potluck, so there’s nothing really to worry about in regards to _that_ aspect.

“I don’t know, maybe like a game of some sort? I’m actually not sure what people do at parties. This is kind of my first one,” he says sheepishly.

His shyness about the whole thing makes it all the more endearing. “Mine, too,” Carlos says, smiling at the screen. “I mean, it _is_ just us drama kids, so I don’t think things will get too out of hand…” He trails off, an imaginary lightbulb going off in his head. “You know what, on second thought, I think I might have just the thing for us."

“What—” he starts, but Carlos cuts him off, too caught up in the excitement of his idea to answer.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out. See you in a few!” He hangs up and tosses his phone on the bed, rummaging through his closet before he finds it: the red length of cardboard sitting on the top shelf (aka the greatest game of all time, _High School Musical_ : The Choosical, or at least it _will_ be when it gets played by...well, more than two people, anyway.)

He’s surprised that it’s taken himself this long to think of playing it given this year’s winter musical. But then he figures he’s probably buried the memories of it down with everything else EJ related, so it’s really not all that shocking. Tonight, he decides he’s not going to worry about that pesky little detail; ever since that night at Big Red’s, things have been...kind of good with EJ (or as good as they can be given their limited interactions outside of rehearsals.) Besides, he doubts that EJ even remembers playing as long ago as it was, and even if he does, he’s not going to risk his reputation by alerting the entire drama department that he used to be friends with Carlos. 

And he’s not sure why he’s even so worried about EJ’s reaction in the first place; if anything, he _should_ be focused on showing it to Seb, not someone he hasn’t been actual friends with for years, someone that probably doesn’t think about him at all outside of the times they’re forced to be together.

 _Whatever_ , he tells himself. Tonight, he’s not going to think. He’s going to have fun with the other drama kids and not let himself get lost in his thoughts, _especially_ if they have anything to do with EJ Caswell.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Carlos’s mom pulls into Seb’s driveway to pick him up for the party; naturally, he’s already waiting in front of the barn, smile lit up on his face and eyes bright. “Hey,” Seb says as he slides into the backseat with Carlos. “So, what’s this surprise you brought?”

Carlos shakes his finger at him. “Ah, ah, ah,” he says. “You’ll just have to wait until we get to the party.” 

“Which ends when, exactly?” Carlos’s mom asks from the front, pulling out of his driveway and heading towards Ashlyn’s. 

“Uh, around eleven, I think,” Carlos says. “Thanks for waking up for this, by the way. I know all that protein must _really_ be working against you by now.”

She laughs. “You’re right about that. I just hope you know you’re not getting picked up a minute earlier.”

“Don’t worry, I kind of figured,” he laughs. 

Seb and Carlos sit in silence for a few minutes, both of them bubbling with too much nervous energy to do a lot of talking, when Carlos feels something touch his hand. He looks down to see Seb’s hand slightly overlapping his own, and when he glances back up, he sees uncertainty masking his features. “Is...this okay?” he asks.

Carlos stares down at their intertwined hands; him and Seb haven’t exactly _talked_ about where their relationship stands, but he supposes that’s because gay kids aren’t really afforded the same luxury of deciding _What are we?_ since there’s not a lot of other options, and besides, why wouldn’t they be dating? Carlos likes Seb a lot, so naturally, it makes sense for them to be together. “Oh...yeah. It’s more than okay,” he grins. He can see his mom smiling at them from the rear-view mirror, but he chooses to ignore it, instead letting himself enjoy the thrill of getting to hold hands with a boy he likes. 

* * *

“The party may begin!” Carlos announces as he enters Ashlyn’s living room, and immediately, all eyes are on him and the contraption in his hands.

“Whoa. Okay, you know it’s a potluck and not, like, catering, right?” Ashlyn laughs, coming over to help him.

“This is _not_ food,” he says.

Big Red sighs in relief. “Oh, good. I thought it was pizza. Too much lactose.”

Carlos can’t help the excited grin that overtakes his face as he rips open the velcro, the anticipation getting to him more than it probably should considering it’s a board game, but that’s beside the point. “What _is_ that?” Big Red asks.

“This is something I’ve been waiting many long years to share with the world. You guys, this is _High School Musical_ : The Choosical!” Carlos says proudly.

“The what now?” Ashlyn laughs.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate to explain, launching into the not-so-tragic backstory of the game’s creation, only for Big Red to ask, “Wait, so you’ve had this for ten years?”

He does a quick sweep of the room; EJ’s not here yet, so it’s not like there’s any reason he _shouldn’t_ lie, but a part of him still feels weird about doing so. Either way, it’s not like EJ’s going to say anything about having played before, not that he would even _remember_ , so he guesses that’s what pushes him to say, “And I’ve never actually played it!”

“Okay, we’ll _totally_ play it,” Ashlyn beams.

Even though he’d expected them to, whether out of actual desire to or just to be polite, Carlos can’t believe that he’s actually getting to play it after so long. “I’m gonna cry!” he says, the cast laughing at his dramatics (but what is Carlos if _not_ dramatic?) before he begins explaining the rules to everyone.

Somehow, playing _High School Musical_ : The Choosical with the cast goes about as well as Carlos had hoped, their reactions being something that he could’ve only wished for in his wildest dreams, including the fact that EJ seems to show no recognition for having played it before once he actually arrives. All is going according to plan for once, and Carlos couldn’t be happier about it. 

That is until it all comes crashing down when Gina abruptly ends up having to leave, taking their little theater party into its early grave. It’s not long before everyone else heads out, too, leaving Carlos and Seb to stand out alone outside while Seb tries to get ahold of his mom. “Hm, no signal here either,” he frowns. “I’m going back inside to see if I can get some reception.”

Carlos nods, flashing him a quick smile seeing as that’s all he has the energy for. Sighing, he hops from foot to foot as he attempts to keep warm, all while trying to keep his board game from toppling out of his hands. 

“Well, that took a drastic turn,” someone from behind him quips, and Carlos turns to see EJ standing there, bundled up in his knitted sweater and coat. If something reminiscent of butterflies surges in his stomach, he all but physically pushes them down himself. “I mean, I knew something was bound to happen since it was a party full of theater kids, but I didn’t expect anything _quite_ on that level.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Carlos sighs. He nudges his glasses up his nose haphazardly to avoid dropping the precious cargo in his hands. “And as if it wasn’t already bad enough, I won’t even have a ride home for another hour. Happy Thanksgiving to me, I guess,” he jokes weakly. 

“Oh,” EJ frowns. His face is all scrunched up, and honestly, if he’s actually concerned about Carlos getting home safely, that might be the biggest surprise of the evening. After a beat of awkward silence, he says, “I mean, I could take you home.”

And _oh;_ maybe Carlos is back to underestimating EJ again just like when they were kids, because even though EJ’s proven that he’s not as much of a jerk as he sometimes acts, the offer takes him completely by surprise. “Are you sure?” he asks uncertainly.

He shrugs, letting out a little laugh, and a bloom of warmth spreads in Carlos’s chest despite the cold surrounding them. “Yeah, of course. Besides, it’s not like we live that far from each other.”

Carlos’s heart stutters; it’s not much, but the fact that he’d even made that acknowledgement feels like a punch to the gut. Something in him protests, screaming in the back of his head at how bad of an idea this is, but Carlos shakes it off. It’s not like they really have any other options, and besides, he’d promised not to overthink things, especially if they’re related to EJ, and that’s exactly what he plans on doing. “Well, if you don’t mind, that’d _actually_ be kind of great,” he says.

Suddenly, Carlos feels someone knock into him from behind, nearly sending his board game flying. “Sorry,” Seb apologizes, and a part of Carlos wants to tell him to be more careful, but he decides to brush past it; it’s not like they need any _more_ drama for the night than they’ve already had. “Anyway, my mom might be able to pick us up, though I’m _not_ sure. One of our cows is giving birth, so…”

Carlos looks from EJ to Seb, a smile slowly growing on his face. “You know what, EJ actually offered to give us a ride.”

“Really?” Seb asks. “Wow, EJ, that’s _so_ nice of you.”

EJ’s eyes widen before his face bounces back into its typical charm. “Oh, yeah. It’s Thanksgiving, why not?” he laughs. 

The three of them stand around awkwardly, no one really sure what to say, before Carlos asks, “Do you want to get going, or…?”

“Oh, right,” EJ says, seeming to snap himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The three of them head over to EJ’s car, Seb sitting in the back while Carlos attempts to open the passenger’s side door, which inevitably fails due to his lack of available limbs. “Seb, could you open this door for me? I’m having a little trouble...ugh,” he says, huffing under his breath.

“Here, you get in. _I’ll_ take this,” EJ says, taking the board game from his grasp.

“Careful!” Carlos says. “That could be an HSM collector’s piece one day.”

EJ rolls his eyes. “I’m sure it will be,” he deadpans, walking over to the other side of the car. “Don’t worry, I’m just putting it back here for safekeeping.” Carlos buckles himself in the passenger’s seat, watching as EJ sets it down and carefully snaps the spare seat belt around it. “See? Nothing to worry about,” he says. Something about the gesture makes his chest palpitate, but he doesn’t let himself think about _that_ , instead letting out a sigh of relief as EJ gets in the car and begins pulling out of Ashlyn’s driveway.

“Do you guys mind if I play some music?” EJ asks. They’re currently on their way to Seb’s considering it’s farther out of the way and Carlos’s stop is already on EJ’s way home.

“Mind? After what just happened back there, we _need_ it at this point,” Carlos says, cranking up the volume.

Much to Carlos’s relief, the drive is actually kind of okay for the first few minutes. It’s mostly just the music playing, except for EJ’s quiet humming next to him. The peacefulness doesn’t last very long, however, because at some point, Seb starts rambling even with the music up as loud as it is, and though Carlos tries to listen, he keeps getting distracted by the fact that he’s sitting in the passenger’s seat of EJ Caswell’s car. A huge part of him had never expected to even talk to EJ again after everything, let alone be getting a ride from him with his boyfriend in the backseat. And not that he’d admit it to anyone other than himself, but it’s a strange moment that he kind of wants to linger in for as long as possible, so if he has to ask Seb to repeat himself a few times, he decides he’s not _really_ hurting anyone.

The song that was playing before fades out, a catchy, up-beat tune taking its place, and though it’s familiar to Carlos, he can’t quite place it right away. “ _You think I’m pretty, without any make-up on. You think I’m funny, when I tell the punchline wrong. I know you get me, so I’ll let my walls come down, down_.” And _oh_ ; he’s almost embarrassed that it took him so long to realize what it is: it’s “Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry. And almost too late, he takes note that it’s _not_ the original, but a cover of the song; the _Glee_ cast version, to be exact, and for a moment, Carlos’s heart stops.

Immediately, Carlos and EJ reach for the stereo at the same time to skip it, hands bumping together in the process. Of course, they must end up hitting a wrong button of sorts, because the music only begins to blare even louder than before. “ _Before you met me, I was all right, but things were kind of heavy. You brought me to life, now every February, you’ll be my Valentine, Valentine_ —”

EJ all but slams the skip button again, and this time, it works. A familiar pop song starts playing instead, but Carlos doesn’t really hear it, heartbeat roaring in his ears. “Hey, why’d you skip that?” Seb asks. “I love that song!”

“Sorry,” EJ says. “I’m not really in a _Glee_ mood after...you know.” He makes eye contact with Carlos, and he can’t help but wonder if he means because of Gina or because of something from a lot longer ago.

The rest of the car ride’s practically silent until they drop Seb off, leaving both of them alone save for the pop music still drifting in from the stereo. “Well, that was fun. Up until the end, anyway,” EJ says.

It takes him a moment to realize he’s talking about Ashlyn’s. “Poor Gina,” Carlos agrees. “At least she was crowned the Queen of East High before her whole world came crashing down on her.”

“True,” he says. “Also, I _don’t_ remember that being a part of the game.”

Carlos whips his head around in his seat; to say he’s completely startled by the words would be an understatement. “What?”

“The ribbon,” EJ says, eyes widening. “I’m _pretty_ sure the only thing you got if you won were bragging rights.”

The fact that he’d even brought it up at all shocks him, and he all but stutters out his response. “That’s because _you_ said bragging rights weren’t incentive enough to win.”

“Was I wrong?” EJ laughs. “How was I going to brag about a game no one else had ever played?”

It’s nice, talking like this, and they’re smiling, and it feels good in a way that nothing else ever has before. “I would’ve let you brag,” Carlos says. He’d meant it as a joke, but instead, it comes off kind of bitter.

Immediately, EJ’s face falters as he turns away to focus on the road, and Carlos hates himself for ruining this one good thing. “Yeah…”

The rest of the car ride is silent until he pulls into Carlos’s driveway. “Thanks for the ride,” he says. “ _And_ for giving Seb a ride,” he adds after a beat.

“What can I say? I guess I’m just in the Thanksgiving spirit,” EJ jokes, but neither of them laugh, and Carlos wishes he’d never said anything in the first place. 

“Well, see you Monday,” Carlos says awkwardly. He gets out of the car and starts walking to the porch, not before grabbing _High School Musical_ : The Choosical, to which he finds it completely intact. He guesses that’s thanks to EJ for buckling it in like it was an actual person and not a mess of decade-old cardboard, but it’s not like he can tell _him_ that, not after he completely ruined the semblance of friendship they had for those few seconds. 

So instead, he trudges up the path to his house, trying not to feel dismayed about the bittersweet (emphasis on the _bitter_ ) turn that the night had taken.

* * *

Things are about as back to normal as they can be for Carlos and EJ, meaning they’re definitely not hostile with each other, but not exactly friends either. More than anything, it’s just awkward, mainly because they’re not really sure how to act around each other (or at least _Carlos_ isn’t) given the past couple weeks of confusion between them. 

So when EJ volunteers to read for Troy during the rooftop staging and Miss Jenn asks Carlos to step in, he’s not really sure what to expect. Honestly, he’s just sort of surprised that EJ hasn’t backed out given that his romantic interest in this scene is being played by Carlos, but he digresses. 

Miss Jenn asks him to give her his cue, and Carlos starts reading, thinking it must be cruel fate that they’re reading the lines about being childhood best friends. Even though he has the entire musical memorized, he still doesn’t look away from his script, knowing that if he does, his face will betray the stoic expression he’s trying to maintain. 

“Look, I never thought about singing, that’s for sure. Until you,” EJ says, and for some reason, he’s delivering each line with so much forced emotion that it nearly floors Carlos. “And now, I don’t wanna stop. _Ever_.”

Miss Jenn stares at them for a full beat before saying, “That’s excellent, and a little weird. Big Red, can we hit these guys with a spotlight?”

While Big Red looks for it, Carlos frowns at EJ, gesturing at him as he asks, “What is _happening_ right now?”

He glances down at his script like this is completely normal for them, when Carlos knows it most certainly is _not_. “Oh, I’m just emoting, Carlos. Feel free to join me,” he says.

Carlos presses his lips together. “This is a tech rehearsal, and I’m your choreographer,” he reminds him, and for some reason, EJ actually looks _hurt_ by the statement, something that leaves Carlos’s chest feeling tighter by the second.

Of course, Miss Jenn asks them to go again from the top, and Carlos wants nothing more than for this whole thing to be over. Things have already been so weird with EJ lately, and this _certainly_ isn’t helping matters. He’s hoping that EJ will just drop whatever act he’s doing and read the room, but instead, he does the complete opposite: he clutches the side of Carlos’s face and gazes into his eyes, and more than anything, he wishes that he could take a look to see what _exactly_ is going through EJ’s head right now (if only to push aside the racing pulse building in his chest.) 

It only takes a moment to realize that he doesn’t need to, because he knows why EJ’s being so weird and emotional; he most _definitely_ looked through Miss Jenn’s show file. And a part of him is a little sad that _that’s_ the only reason, which leads to him internally scolding himself; he has _Seb_ , his boyfriend that he happens to care a lot about. He shouldn’t be upset that EJ was acting...like _that_ because of his own selfish reasons and not because he actually feels something for Carlos. If anything, the only reason he should be upset is because EJ went behind his back and ignored his instructions to dig through Miss Jenn’s show file.

Sure, things between him and EJ haven’t been stable for years given their history, but he thought that after the past few weeks they might have _some_ kind of mutual understanding for each other. Of course, that’s all out the window now that EJ completely betrayed his trust, which he guesses is why he stomps up to him and asks, “You looked in the audition files, didn’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, and that’s answer enough for Carlos. “Oh, boy,” he says, digging through his box of popcorn (which is most definitely months old, but he’s too annoyed with their situation to tell _him_ that.)

Again, they start arguing, with EJ hurling needless blame and Carlos getting defensive in hopes that he can ignore his hurt feelings, and _God_ , he wishes him and EJ knew how to coexist without fighting for once.

Instead of brainstorming ways to do _that_ , though, he sulks. Because, yeah, EJ was right (unsurprisingly); forest of boys was a stupid idea, and so was coming to the El Rey. Who is he, a sophomore with no experience in...well, _anything_ , to tell everyone what to do, especially in such a conundrum as this one? 

He tells EJ as much when he comes back around to ask about Miss Jenn, and that’s when Carlos thinks the most surprising thing of all happens. EJ frowns and says, “No, you stepped up, dude. You always do. And if I’m being honest, it’s…,” he grimaces, “you know?”

“Stupid?” Carlos asks, more than expecting the blow.

He shakes his head. “Admirable,” he admits, and _oh_ , that is _definitely_ not what he expected.

“EJ, was that a _compliment_?” he asks, because even having heard it with his own two ears, he’s still not entirely sure that it happened.

“ _Don’t_ make me start emoting,” he winces.

Carlos can’t help but laugh, the movement warming his whole body. “Okay. Well, the words were a four, but the sentiment was a solid ten.”

He chuckles, glancing away. “I’m gonna walk away now,” he says, and if Carlos is smiling because he shared a rarely heartfelt moment with EJ, well, it’s not like anyone else needs to know.

* * *

It’s not long before they’re packing up to go back to East High, and honestly, Carlos thinks it’s for the best. Even though the El Rey’s clearly better than no venue at all, he’s glad they’re still able to host it at the school considering that was kind of the whole point of this year’s winter musical being _High School Musical_ in the first place. 

Carlos is busy carrying out a box of props (or struggling to, anyway) when EJ falls into step beside him. “Here, let me help you with that,” he says. Carlos’s eyebrows raise as he watches EJ take his box and stack it on to his even bigger one almost effortlessly.

“Wow, thanks,” Carlos says, eyes widening. “All that water polo must be really working out for you.”

“Well, that, and moving all these props back and forth twice in one day,” he jokes. “Hey...sorry things didn’t work out here, by the way.”

Carlos shrugs, ignoring that he might actually be trying to sympathize with him right now for his own sake. “It’s okay. You know, the stage at East High might be burnt to a crisp, but at least there’s no feral rats running around.”

EJ laughs, and he hates how good it makes him feel. “True. I will miss the popcorn, though. Even if it was _unbelievably_ stale.”

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind about that when you’re suffering from food poisoning later tonight,” Carlos points out.

EJ laughs again before walking ahead of him to load up the props. “Hey, what was that all about?” a voice behind him asks, and Carlos turns to see Seb looking more than puzzled.

“What was what all about?” Carlos asks, tilting his head.

“I don’t know,” Seb shrugs, even though it’s clear that he does. “Just this whole day. You and EJ have seemed...pretty close.”

And _oh_ ; Carlos’s heart plummets into his stomach, because if even _Seb_ is noticing it, then he knows it’s not good. “What are you implying?” he asks, almost afraid of the answer.

“I don’t know…,” he says. “I know it sounds silly, but...should I be worried?”

“Of me and EJ?” Carlos asks. His mind flashes back to that initial day on the playground, the way EJ had supported him in a way that no one else ever had, to now, where things feel like they might actually be going right between them for once. “You know...I think I can wholeheartedly say you shouldn’t be,” he says.

Seb smiles. “Okay, good.” He skips down the rest of the hallway, and Carlos watches with a smile, trying and failing to push down any semblance of guilt twisting around in his gut.

* * *

Out of all the unexpected mishaps and disasters EJ has prepared for throughout his entire theatrical career, not once did he ever expect to replace Ricky as Troy right before Act Two. Sure, maybe this is all that he’s wanted for the past several months, but now that he’s been given ten minutes notice with no replacement for his own character in sight, it’s easily turning into his worst nightmare. 

By some miracle, Carlos chooses this particular moment to enter the empty dressing room, and EJ doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see him (even _if_ his face looks increasingly tense and like the smallest problem could make him snap.) “Hey, do you know where Ricky went, by chance? Miss Jenn wanted to see how he was doing after “Getcha Head in the Game” and—what are you doing?” he asks as EJ tugs off his Chad jersey. 

_Way to jump the gun, EJ_ , he thinks to himself. “Listen, Ricky asked me to fill in as Troy for Act Two and I need someone to play Chad,” he says. He can feel his chest starting to tighten, the room feeling increasingly smaller with each passing second. 

“Wait a minute…,” Carlos frowns, “you want _me_ to play Chad? Are you sure you’re not dehydrated or something?” He looks even more anxious than when he’d walked in the room, and EJ wishes he knew some way to calm him down without making things a thousand percent worse.

“Come on, _please_ , Carlos? You’re literally my only hope,” he says. He still doesn’t look convinced, and EJ _knows_ , or has known for a while, that Carlos doesn’t owe him anything, but a part of him still hopes that he’ll do this one thing for him, even if he most _definitely_ doesn’t deserve it. “For me?” he asks, and something about the words makes him feel even more breathless than before.

“Well, in _that_ case,” Carlos deadpans, and EJ gives him another pleading look. “Okay, fine! But I’m telling you right now, I’m about to be the world’s most unbelievable Chad Danforth.”

EJ smiles for the first time since intermission started, finally feeling a little bit of relief for the situation he’s been thrown into. “You’ll do great. Promise.” He hands Carlos the Chad outfit for him to change into, trying to look as encouraging as he possibly can given the circumstances. 

Even though it seems like an absolutely _terrible_ plan, he knows Carlos, he knows how hard he’s worked on this entire production, and by this point, he probably has everyone’s lines memorized. He knows he’ll do good, even if it’s not primarily for all the reasons he’s just listed.

* * *

Even with the _several_ major bumps in the road, Carlos still can’t believe how much of a success the musical turned out to be. His contributions might not be as obvious as those that physically acted on-stage (well, if you excuse his brief encounter with filling in as Chad, anyway), but the pride he feels for himself is overwhelming to the point that he’s not sure his body can contain all of it.

After the musical ends, he stands behind their makeshift wings, greeting the cast and crew with congratulations and hugs as they pass through. EJ’s one of the last people to exit the stage, no doubt chatting up every person in the room, and Carlos isn’t entirely sure what he should say when he sees him. Things have been so complicated lately, and he feels like he doesn’t know what’s going on between them until he’s reeling after the fact. 

He’s still contemplating on what to say to him when EJ catches his eye and smiles, pulling him into a hug before he can even realize what’s happening. “You did great out there, dude,” he says.

Carlos laughs as he pulls away, trying not to think about how they’re still locked in a half-embrace of sorts as they hold each other by the elbows. “I’m not sure _great_ is the word I’d use, but I appreciate the compliment.”

EJ rolls his eyes, though not in the mocking way that Carlos has become so accustomed to over these past few months; instead, it’s playful in a way that friends are, and the realization pokes at Carlos’s chest until it hurts. “Seriously, Carlos. Thanks for having my back,” he smiles.

Carlos doesn’t want to say what he’s really thinking, which is that he always has and probably always will, so he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “You’re welcome. But let’s both just agree to make this a one-time experience.” They both laugh before EJ steps away from him to talk to someone else, and a warm feeling rises in Carlos’s chest; clearly, there’d been nothing to worry about after all.

* * *

Not too long after, Carlos and most of the cast leave to go to Ashlyn’s for the cast party. He’d been planning on waiting for Miss Jenn before heading over, but she’d waved him on, telling him she’d catch up with them later. He does, not without taking note of the distressed look on her face as he leaves the building with Seb. 

“You know, even with all the last-minute cast changes, that still went _surprisingly_ better than expected,” Seb remarks.

“No kidding,” Carlos says. “Who knew by the end of the night I’d be in EJ’s Chad costume and dribbling a basketball?”

Seb has a puzzled sort of smile on his face, though it’s not like it’s exactly an _uncommon_ look for him, so he’s not all that worried about it. “How _did_ that end up happening, anyway? We never got the chance to talk about it...well, given everything else going on,” he says. 

Carlos shrugs. “It just sort of happened, actually. After Ricky asked EJ to be Troy for Act Two, it wasn’t like there was anyone lined up as Chad’s understudy, so EJ asked me to fill in.”

The smile completely falters from Seb’s face, leaving behind the leftover confusion from before and something else that leaves his eyebrows drawn and his lips pulled into a frown. “Oh. That’s cool, I guess.”

“Yeah…,” Carlos says, starting to feel a little confused himself. “Anyway, my mom said she’d be glad to run both of us over to Ashlyn’s! Are you coming with?”

Seb shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. My parents wanted to drive me over so they can ‘congratulate’ me and whatnot.”

“Oh,” Carlos says. A slight feeling of disappointment prods at him, but he recovers from it quickly; it’s not like he won’t see him at the party. “Well, maybe we can take you home afterwards?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you soon,” he smiles, though it doesn’t feel as bright as before, and Carlos doesn’t know why. The whole evening’s been basically perfect, or as perfect as a school musical as chaotic as theirs can be, anyway; whatever had changed between the musical and this moment, Carlos has no clue. 

_You’re probably just overthinking things as usual_ , he tells himself, and though it doesn’t completely push away the sinking feeling that something’s wrong, it’s easy enough to bury away in the moment.

* * *

When Carlos arrives at Ashlyn’s, he finds most of the cast already there (well, excluding Seb, anyway, and weirdly enough, _Ashlyn_.) He glances around the room, trying to see if maybe his eyes had accidentally skipped over her, when someone beside him asks, “Looking for someone?” He looks up to see EJ towering over him, eyes twinkling from the overhead lights, and the sight makes something in Carlos’s chest do backflips.

“I was actually looking for Ashlyn,” he says, though it’s not like he’s exactly disappointed to see EJ in her place. “I didn’t really get the chance to talk to her earlier with everything else going on.”

“I think she’ll be here soon, at least I _hope_. She told me to go ahead and set up because she had to go and ‘take care of something,’ whatever the heck that means,” EJ says, and Carlos resists the urge to roll his eyes. “So, did you bring _High School Musical_ : The Choosical? I’m actually kind of excited to see those extra questions.”

Carlos frowns; he must’ve forgotten to pick it up at home on his way over here. “Oops. I guess I got caught up in all the excitement that I forgot to grab it,” he says apologetically.

EJ shrugs. “No worries, dude. I mean, talking’s good, too.”

Carlos thinks back to the beginning of this year, how he’d barely been able to talk to EJ without a restraint of fear wrapping around his throat, or at the start of high school, when he couldn’t even look him directly in the eye. He can’t believe that they made it here, to a party where they actually _want_ to talk to each other, and even though Carlos knows this isn’t a major milestone, at least not one he should care so much about, it sure feels like one. “Yeah,” Carlos smiles. “It is.”

They’re looking at each other, and even though no words are coming out, it still feels like a lot’s being said. Sitting there unspoken between them are the words, _I’ve missed this_ , and Carlos thinks if he stares at him long enough, he can hear EJ saying, _Me too._

Not before long, EJ is clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away, and Carlos feels something reminiscent of a blush warming on his cheeks. “So...is there anything else you need help setting up before Ashlyn gets here?” Carlos asks. 

“Well, I guess I didn’t _exactly_ set out any snacks yet, so we should probably do that,” EJ says. 

Carlos rolls his eyes. “You think?” he asks, and they both laugh. “Okay, you tackle whatever’s in the fridge, and I’ll see if I can find any snacks in the cabinets.”

“Deal,” EJ says. Together, they conquer Ashlyn’s kitchen, EJ pulling out an array of snack trays and some stray soda cans while Carlos finds chips, pretzels, and some cookies that are probably a few days from going stale. 

He’s still digging through the pantry when someone from behind him squeezes his shoulder, startling him so much that he nearly hits his head on one of the shelves. “Sorry,” the voice says, and Carlos squints against the bright lights to see Seb standing there. “What are you doing, anyway?”

Carlos goes back to looking for snacks, not prepared to give up on his mission _quite_ yet. “Looking for party snacks. Ashlyn left EJ in charge of the party while she’s taking care of something, so we’re trying to find some food before everyone starts rioting,” he jokes. 

“How’d you know where everything was?” Seb laughs.

Carlos shrugs. “Good guess?” It’s not like he’d ever told him about his past friendships with EJ and Ashlyn, and he doesn’t exactly plan on doing so _tonight_. 

He spots a red cardboard box sitting on the back of the shelf and he pulls it out, smiling once he sees the picture of chocolate cake on the front. “And it looks like we’ve _officially_ hit the jackpot, people!”

Seb frowns, eyebrows drawing together. “How? It’s just a box of cake mix,” he laughs. “I’m pretty sure they go for, like, two dollars at the drug store.”

“It’s not about the quality, Seb, it’s about the _memories_ ,” Carlos says. He stands up, holding out the cake mix in front of him. “EJ, look what I found!”

EJ glances up from dumping various chips into bowls, a smile lighting up on his face. “ _Nice_. Let’s wait until Ashlyn gets here—she’ll love it.”

“Good idea,” Carlos says, setting it down on the counter. When he turns back around, Seb’s already looking at him, face scrunched up. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I guess I’ll just...let you guys get back to work!” He tries to say it like a joke, but there’s no humor in his voice and he’s practically frowning once the words leave his mouth. 

“Seb…,” Carlos starts, but he’s already walking away into the thicket of theater kids. He tries following after him, only to find him with his back turned while he talks to Rico and Steph. 

He wants to do something, _anything_ to clear the air with Seb and start the night fresh, but he’s never been that great with handling things on the fly, and besides, it’s obvious that Seb doesn’t want to talk to him, anyway.

Carlos is prepared to sulk in the corner for the rest of the evening until he hears the front door click and sees Ashlyn stepping through, Big Red in tow. Immediately, he flocks to the open doorway and says, “Ashlyn, _there_ you are! I know this isn’t a surprise party, but surprise, we’re already here!” he jokes. Both of them are grinning, and it takes Carlos a moment to notice that their hands are intertwined between them, his eyes widening at the sight. “I guess _now_ I know what you were taking care of.”

EJ must notice that she’s there, too, because not even two seconds later, he’s walking over and coming to a halt next to Carlos. “Hey, Ash, glad to see...oh,” EJ says. “Are you guys—”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Ashyn says in a sing-song voice.

“I’m going to go talk to Ricky. I’ve been _dying_ to tell him,” Big Red says.

Ashlyn smiles. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute.” They share a love-sick smile as they pull away (which, Carlos has to admit, is kind of adorable) before leaving the three of them standing alone in the foyer.

“Question: _how_ exactly did you guys get together?” EJ asks. 

She beams. “It just sort of happened! One minute, I saw him tap-dancing in the gym,” Carlos mouths _Tap-dancing?_ to which EJ shrugs cluelessly, “and the next, I was kissing him. And I guess now we’re together!”

“ _Wow_ ,” Carlos says. “Well, either way, I’m _so_ happy for you, Ashlyn. You deserve it.” 

She gives him a hug before turning to EJ, eyebrows raised. “Is there anything _you_ want to say to me, EJ?”

He rolls his eyes and laughs. “I think it goes without saying that I’m happy for you, but since you clearly want me to say it anyway, _congratulations_ , Ash.” 

Ashlyn smiles. “That’s all I wanted to hear!” She glances at something from across the room, and Carlos sees Big Red waving her over with an excited grin on his face. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later, okay?” She pats EJ on the shoulder before finding her way over to Big Red, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Huh,” EJ says. “ _Really_ didn’t see that one coming.”

They wander over to Ashlyn’s kitchen, where Carlos shoves aside a bag of chips to plop himself on the counter. “I mean, it kind of makes sense. He _did_ practically buy out an entire flower shop for her.”

“That’s true,” EJ says, sitting on the empty counter space next to him, and he ignores the way that his breath hitches slightly at the close proximity. “I know I was joking before, but I’m actually really happy for them.”

“Me too,” Carlos says. “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t gone all over-protective on Big Red, though.”

His nose wrinkles. “Nah,” he laughs. “Ashlyn deserves it. Besides, Big Red’s, like, the least threatening guy I’ve ever met.”

Carlos scoffs in disbelief. “And I’m _not_?”

“No way,” EJ says. “You’re...I don’t know, you’re actually kind of...intimidating.”

Carlos doesn’t know if there’s any other way to react to that other than completely and utterly baffled. “ _How_?” he asks. “Because I’m pretty sure I exude, like, _zero_ amount of confidence.”

“Come on, dude, you _know_ that’s not true,” EJ teases, knocking him with his shoulder, and Carlos can’t help but be reminded once again how nice it is, talking to him like this. “Even if you’re just telling us to take five, you say it with so much authority. It’s like you were born to be in charge.”

The words warm him from head to toe. “As if you’re not a leader, Mr. Co-Captain of the Water Polo Team. You always seem to be so sure about _everything_.”

EJ winces. “Not everything,” he says, and Carlos looks down to see EJ’s foot resting against his own.

Carlos’s mouth feels as dry as sandpaper. “Could’ve fooled me.” They’re staring at each other again, and this time, EJ doesn’t pull away, and neither does Carlos. This isn’t... _no._ There’s no way EJ Caswell could possibly like him, and besides, even if he did, he shouldn’t care, he _doesn’t_ care. Except he does, and Carlos knows it, too, knows it like sunny days on the playground and homemade valentines and _Glee_ marathons in Ashlyn’s basement and everything in between. Because no matter how much he’s tried to ignore it, how much he’s pushed it down and buried it away, his feelings for EJ have always had a way of making themselves known, and now, sitting on Ashlyn’s counter, they feel like they’re going to spill out of him all at once until there’s nothing left. 

Carlos jumps down from the countertop, his legs feeling shaky, and is it hot in here, or is it just him? “I’ve gotta go. Excuse me,” he says, wiping his forehead on his flowered sleeve. He ignores EJ calling after him, and right when he thinks he’s gotten far enough from everyone else, there’s Seb, standing in front of him with a blank expression on his face. “Hey…,” he says.

Seb doesn’t answer as he grabs his coat off the hook by the front door, silently putting it on. “Why are you putting your coat on? I haven’t even texted my mom to pick us up yet,” he frowns.

“Change of plans,” Seb says, and the monotone in his voice startles him. “My mom’s coming to pick me up.”

“What? But the party’s barely even started—”

Seb glances up, eyes big and watery, and Carlos nearly takes a step back; he’s never seen Seb look so hurt, at least not like _this._ “Maybe not for you, but I’m kind of over it, especially if you’re just going to ignore me to hang out with EJ the whole time.”

And _oh_ ; sure, he’d known that his friendship with EJ had bothered him a little bit before, but he didn’t know it’d upset him _this_ much. “I’m sorry, I _swear_ I wasn’t trying to, Seb,” he apologizes, but he just shakes his head in response.

“And that’s not even the worst part, because I even asked you at tech rehearsal if I should be worried about you guys, and you said _no_ ,” he sighs. “Why couldn’t you have just told me the truth?”

“It _was_ the truth,” Carlos says, but Seb doesn’t look convinced.

“Really?” Seb asks. “I saw you guys together in the kitchen just now, and that didn’t _seem_ like two people who are just friends.” Carlos’s eyes fall to the floor, his entire body aching with guilt. “Carlos, be honest...do you have feelings for EJ?”

He _knows_ what the answer is, but the words feel frozen on his lips. “I—”

Seb cuts him off. “If you were sure, you would’ve just said no.” He’s smiling, but there’s no warmth to it; instead, there’s just a pit of hurt and sadness, one that _Carlos_ is wholeheartedly responsible for, and something twists sickeningly in his stomach. 

A horn beeps from outside, and Seb lets out a heavy sigh. “I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you after break or something.”

“Seb—” he calls out, but he’s already heading out the door and out of his life, and Carlos can’t remember a time where he’s ever felt so helpless.

Almost immediately, he hears footsteps coming from behind him, and he turns to see Ashlyn standing there in the foyer. “Hey...I thought I heard arguing. Are you okay?” she asks worriedly. 

He shakes his head, refusing to look her in the eye as he tries to force down the lump in his throat. “Honestly? I don’t think I am,” he sighs, and already, he can feel the tears burning in his eyes.

“Hey,” she says, leading him over to the staircase, and Carlos sits down on the step next to her without even questioning it. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He doubts he’ll be able to tell her without bursting into tears, but that doesn’t stop everything from involuntarily spilling out of him anyway. “Well, I’m _pretty_ sure Seb and I just broke up, all because I sort of also have feelings for someone else that will never like me back,” he says, laughing even though it’s not funny.

Ashlyn frowns, giving him that soft look of concern, and he wants to tell her that he doesn’t deserve it. Because he’s not exactly the victim in this story; if anything, _he’s_ the one causing pain to those around him, and she should be comforting Seb, not him. But it’s not like Seb’s even here, anyway, and as for his feelings for EJ, he _more_ than needs a shoulder to cry on, so he doesn’t say anything, instead pouting as he lets the vortex of guilt in his stomach consume him whole. 

“Do these feelings maybe have anything to do with a certain cousin of mine?” she asks, and Carlos’s head snaps around to look at her.

“You _know_?” he asks. Is he just the last one to figure it out, because if he is, wouldn’t _that_ just be the icing on the cake. 

“I guess I had a feeling?” she says. “It’s just...I don’t know, you’ve been hanging out a lot more, and I just wondered…”

He lets out a sigh, dropping his head in his hands. “Well, at least I won’t have to _explain_ to you how much of an idiot I am since it’s pretty clear as it is.”

Ashlyn nudges him. “ _Hey_. You’re not an idiot, okay? He just has that stupid charm about him.”

Carlos can’t help but laugh a little at that. “You’ve got the stupid part right,” he smiles, but it’s not long before it falters again. “It’s not even that I don’t like Seb, because I _do_ , but...it’s like I still had all these old feelings for EJ, and then I started getting all these _new_ feelings for him, too, and it’s just...a huge mess.” He hangs his head, eyes finding the tips of his shoes. “Maybe we’d both be better off if things just went back to how they used to be.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Ashlyn says. “Just because everything feels like it’s falling apart right now, it doesn’t mean you have to cut him off entirely.”

“You mean the way he did to me?” Carlos points out, and she gives him a conceding look. “Having feelings for him was bad enough the first time around, and I was _twelve_. I just don’t know if I can do it again, especially when I know he’s _never_ going to feel the same way.”

She puts an arm around him, and this, of course, is when the tears behind his eyes choose to fall. “Listen, obviously I can’t tell you how EJ feels, especially because I don’t even think _EJ_ knows,” she says. “But whatever you end up doing, I support you one-hundred percent.”

And not for the first time in his life, Carlos wishes him and Ashlyn had managed to stay close throughout junior high and high school, because he can’t help but feel like his life is always infinitely better with her in it. “Sorry for unloading all of this on you, by the way. I’m sure you’d _much_ rather be with Big Red right about now instead of comforting me,” he jokes, poking her in the side.

She smiles. “I may have gotten my first boyfriend tonight, but I’ll _never_ regret being your friend.”

And _great_ ; he’s crying all over again, except this time, it’s for a much different reason. “I’ll never regret being friends with you, either,” he smiles. He stands up and wipes his eyes. “Well, I’d thank you for a fun evening, but the last half has been _kind of_ miserable, no offense.”

“None taken,” she laughs. “And don’t worry, you’ll work things out, even if it all feels really impossible right now.”

“I have a hard time believing that, but I’m thankful for your optimism,” Carlos says. He’s still not sure what he’s going to do about his situation with EJ—there’s still so much to deal with, like the fact that EJ’s never going to return his feelings, or how he still hasn’t apologized for what happened between them that summer, not to mention everything going on with Seb—but he’s at least glad to have been able to vent his feelings, especially if it’s to someone as supportive as Ashlyn. 

* * *

Long after Carlos leaves the room, EJ’s still sitting on Ashlyn’s counter, trying and failing to keep his racing heartbeat in check as he attempts to wrap his head around _what_ exactly just happened. All he knows is that one minute, they’re talking and it feels better than anything has in a long time, and the next, EJ’s heart feels like it’s on fire and Carlos is all but running away from him. He’s not sure exactly what went wrong, and he can’t stop repeating each moment of their conversation over and over in his head as if _that_ will somehow magically answer everything. Instead, it leaves him with a funny feeling in his stomach, which raises even _more_ questions than EJ’d had to begin with, and he somehow manages to feel even more confused than when Carlos had run off in the first place.

Soon enough, the party disperses (EJ figures it’s his whirlpool of mixed-up feelings that kills the vibe), leaving only EJ, Ashlyn, Big Red, and Gina behind to deal with the aftermath. “EJ, you want to grab a trash bag and help us pick up?” Ashlyn asks, even though it’s more of an order than a suggestion. 

Normally, he’d resist and crack a joke about how hard labor doesn’t fit his image, but he’s so out of sorts that for once, he doesn’t even protest. “Yeah, sure,” he says. He barely even registers the weird look Ashlyn gives him as he dumps used plates and crumpled napkins into a trash bag.

The four of them are still cleaning up the living room when Big Red asks, “Hey, did anyone else think that something seemed off with Seb earlier? Because either one of his cows just died, or he _really_ doesn’t like me.”

Ashlyn pats him on the arm. “I don’t think that was about you,” she says. There’s a slight pause before she adds, “I’m pretty sure him and Carlos broke up during the party.”

Almost immediately, EJ’s head snaps up. “ _What_?” he asks. “Who told you that? Do you know why they broke up?”

She gives him a bewildered look. “Carlos did, right before he left. And I don’t know...he didn’t say.” Somehow, EJ doubts that that’s true; even when he’s upset, Carlos can be quite the chatterbox, and he doubts that his first break-up would be no exception.

“Aw, well, that’s too bad,” Gina frowns. “I thought they were cute together.”

Something in EJ physically recoils, but _why_ , he has absolutely no clue. “Yeah, I guess,” he says, dumping a crushed soda can as he tries to ignore the burning feeling in his chest. 

It’s not long before the living room is spotless again (or as spotless as it can be after a tornado of theater kids tore through the place, anyway.) “Sure you’re good with the clean-up? I can stay behind if you need me to,” Big Red says.

“I think we’ll manage,” Ashlyn says, smiling sweetly at him, and EJ may be happy for them, but that does _not_ mean he wants to witness this. “Thanks, Big Red. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“It’s a date!” he exclaims. 

They share a hug before Big Red leaves, and once he’s out the door, Ashlyn lets out a squeal that makes Gina smile and EJ want to barf. “Not to be dramatic, but this has _kind of_ been the best night ever.”

“Maybe for some people,” EJ mutters under his breath. He pretends not to see Ashlyn and Gina exchange a glance, mostly because it makes him feel like a petulant kid they don’t know how to deal with and _not_ like someone that’s older than the both of them.

“Anyway, _Gina_ , I talked to my parents before they went with EJ’s to celebrate, and they’re _totally_ okay with you staying! Obviously, we can figure it all out in the morning with your mom and stuff, but as long as she’s okay with it, you can stay here as long as you want,” Ashlyn beams. 

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” Gina exclaims, throwing her arms around her. “I seriously can’t believe I might get to finish the year out at East High.”

Even being as annoyed as he is, EJ can’t help but feel happy for her. “You’re staying with Ashlyn? That’s _really_ great, Gina.”

She smiles. “Well, it wouldn’t even be _happening_ if you hadn’t bought me that plane ticket.”

Ashlyn’s nose wrinkles in confusion. “Am I the only one that feels like they missed out on some stuff tonight?” The three of them laugh, even though there’s _way_ too much truth in the question for it to be a joke. “Anyway, if you want to grab your stuff, I’ll show you where the guest room is,” she says. “EJ, can you put the rest of the food away while I give Gina the tour?”

“You know, I should _really_ be getting paid for this,” EJ says, but he shuffles over to the kitchen and starts putting away whatever’s left. Of course, by the time he’s done shoving everything in the fridge or into random cabinets, he finds Carlos’s cake mix still sitting forgotten on the island. EJ picks it up and frowns; so much for _that_ idea since Carlos had fled before they’d even gotten the chance to make it together.

As EJ pushes the box as far back in the pantry as possible, Ashlyn’s coming back down the stairs, a bounce to her step as she makes her way into the kitchen. “Thanks for cleaning up. Part of me didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she quips.

Normally, EJ would make a comeback of his own, but after tonight, he’s really not in the mood. “ _Ha_ , _ha_ ,” he deadpans. “So...now that we’re alone, what happened with Carlos and Seb?”

"None of your _business_ ," she says. “Besides, I’ve probably said too much already. I’m not even one-hundred percent sure they’re broken up, anyway.”

Something in his chest twists at the words. He’s not sure _why_ he cares so much about Carlos and Seb’s relationship all of a sudden; he just knows that he does. And he doesn’t know how long it’s been there, but being around Carlos again makes this warm bubbly feeling rise to the edge of his skin, something that only happens when— _oh_. Oh, no. 

Ashlyn looks at him with a worried frown. “EJ, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“No, I’m...I’m fine,” he says, collapsing into an armchair in her living room. _God_ , why did this have to happen now? A part of him had always wondered, just a little...but it’s never been something he hasn’t been able to bury down, something he couldn’t pretend didn’t exist. Until now, anyway, the feeling so constantly _there_ that he didn’t even realize it until it was practically smacking him in the face. 

“Hey, you know you can talk to me, EJ, whatever it’s about,” she says sympathetically.

The thought of talking about it with anyone else makes him sick to his stomach, but this isn’t just anyone; it’s _Ashlyn_ , and he knows that she would take this secret to her grave if she had to. And even though the very idea terrifies him to the core, he knows the options are to either talk it out with Ashlyn or mull it over in his head until he goes crazy, and even _he_ knows which poison is the one to pick in this case. 

He sucks in a breath. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but...you know how you’re kind of like...my best friend, Ash?”

“Yeah…,” she says. “Is this another one of your confessional things?”

EJ laughs humorlessly, a pit opening up in the bottom of his stomach that’s reminiscent of a block of ice. “You have _no_ idea,” he says. His eyes find the ground. “I...I think I’m…,” he trails off. 

Her eyebrows furrow. “Sick?”

He groans. “ _No_. Why does everyone always think that?”

“Sorry!” she exclaims. “Whatever it is, I’m listening.”

Again, he takes a deep breath, and EJ’s not sure if he’s ever been this nervous in his life, his heart going so fast that he can’t help but wonder if it’s even beating at all. “Okay, so, I...I think I’m…,” he shakes his head and lets out a groan. “I can’t do this.” 

“ _Yes_ , you can,” Ashlyn says. 

“No, I can’t!” he exclaims. He doesn’t know why he’d ever thought this was a good idea in the first place; he should’ve just pushed all of his feelings back down like the way he has his entire life. “I’ve always had my life perfectly mapped out, Ash, I didn’t....this wasn’t part of the plan.”

“You mean Carlos wasn’t part of the plan?” she asks softly, because of course she knows. _God._

He can feel himself start to tear up, and _great_ , now he’s emoting, too. “No,” he says. “At least...not in the way he is.” He pauses for a few seconds, though it feels more like an eternity than anything. “I think I’m bi.”

“Okay,” she says, grabbing his hand, and for the first time since this conversation started, EJ feels like he can exhale. 

“But I don’t know for sure yet, you know?” he says. “It’s...a lot to think about.”

“No matter what you end up figuring out, EJ, I support you,” she smiles. 

“Thanks, Ashlyn,” he says, and maybe it comes out a little wobbly, but he still means it all the same. Ashlyn’s always been there for him, especially at times that he didn’t deserve it, so it only seems fitting that she’s the person he came to for this, too.

“You know you’re kind of like my best friend, too, right?” Ashlyn says.

EJ laughs, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Yeah. I know.”

“So...Carlos, huh?” she asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively at him, and something pangs dutifully in his stomach to remind him of just how _hopeless_ this whole situation actually is.

“Could we _maybe_ not talk about this right now?” EJ asks. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she smiles. “I’m just _saying_ , it’s funny how things turned out...you know, after everything.”

“I think you and I have a different definition of the word ‘funny,’” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ashlyn says. “I just think it’d be nice if you guys were able to... _make up_ after what happened.”

“All right, all right,” EJ says, legs shaky as he stands up, and honestly, he guesses that’s kind of expected given the circumstances. “You know, I think I’m gonna—” he says, throwing a thumb towards the door.

“Okay, I know, I’ve bothered you enough.” She gives him a hug, and after a moment, he squeezes back, the warmth and comfort of it making his eyes water all over again. “Love you, E.”

EJ smiles as he pulls away, and this time, it doesn’t feel as unstable as before. “Love you, too, Ash.”

As he moves towards the door, she calls out, “Let me know when you figure things out!”

Even after everything, he can’t resist the urge to snort at the words. “Trust me, you’ll be the first to know considering you’re the _only_ one who knows,” he says. “Night, Ashlyn.”

“Night. Drive safe,” she smiles, and with that, he’s stepping out the door and completely out of the carefully guarded walls he’d built for himself forever.

Even though he feels a weird sense of relief in his chest, he also feels oddly vulnerable, something that he’s spent his entire life trying to avoid dealing with. In the end, he decides it was worth it; maybe now, he can start _living_ without being too worried about the repercussions, or refusing to care too much in case he’s the one that ends up getting hurt. Maybe now, he can actually do something about...whatever he feels for Carlos rather than bury his heart in the sand.

Maybe now, he can finally be himself instead of what everyone else wants him to be.


End file.
